


dragon heartstring

by chalknpolish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fred Weasley Lives, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of OCs - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, oh my god pining idiots, slowburn to the max, whole series retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:54:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalknpolish/pseuds/chalknpolish
Summary: she's an ollivander. wandmaking was in her blood. magic was in her blood.he's a weasley. the fourth or fifth, depending on who you asked. he certainly had magic running in his veins, but maybe a different kind.maybe a different kind of magic is precisely what she needs.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 55





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Evette Ollivander-Wright had her life planned out from the time her grubby toddler fists closed around her mother's wand and it showered golden sparks. While there were many Ollivanders, very few actually possessed the skills necessary to delve into the intricately complicated art of wandmaking. She knew she was special.
> 
> George Weasley took a bit longer to figure out what exactly it was he wanted to do. While he and his partner in crime were undoubtedly talented wizards, they liked to boast that they excelled in a much different kind of magic—one less to do with spellcasting and more to do with smiling. He knew he was good.
> 
> Bigheaded girl meets sidelined boy and as is so often the case, mess one another's plans up royally.
> 
> Maybe, just maybe, these combatting magics could create something beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> author's note:
> 
> hi!! i'm so excited for this story omg i've been pouring my heart and soul into george weasley over these last couple weeks. i hope you fall in love with him right along with evette, just as i did.
> 
> so the story starts with a five-part prologue that is essentially a series of scenes/vignettes/memories of their time at hogwarts together leading up to prisoner of azkaban! i tried to space out the scenes so if a chapter feels a bit much, you can stop and come back later!
> 
> as for content warnings... basically, if you read harry potter, you should be fine with this. things get violent at some points, but i won't be gross about it. the biggest shift is language (i finally let ron say fuck).
> 
> i hope you enjoy!! please please please let me know your thoughts :))

**I**  
_A Brief History of Ollivanders_

❈

The family of Ollivander was notorious even before Garrick revolutionized wandmaking in the past century. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood families (along with members such as the Malfoys, Carrows, and Prewetts), the Ollivanders were highly revered for their early roots in Wizarding England. 

Though the Ollivanders have long been protectors of the precise and delicate art of wandmaking, their reputation as best wandmakers in the world would not become firmly established until Garrick Ollivander took ownership of the family storefront in the early 1930s. Before this point, wizards would bring the supplies they wanted made into a wand; it was Garrick who realized that should the wand choose the wizard instead, the duo's partnership was not only more reliable, but more powerful, too.

Already owning a powerful status do to their pure-blooded title, the Ollivander name only grew in renown from that point on. While everyone agreed that Garrick was a bit odd, one would be hard-pressed to find a witch or wizard in all of England (and even beyond) who had not passed through his shop at age eleven. The mere act of being born an Ollivander was enough to fling a child into popularity at the very least and celebrity at the most extreme upon attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Those that care about their placement on the Sacred Twenty-Eight, however, would likely say that Evette Ollivander-Wright was not technically an Ollivander.

Born to a muggle father and pureblooded mother, Evette didn't worry herself about small details such as blood status. She was a happy baby, doted on by her mother and grudgingly adored by her older brother.

When she was two, she threw a fit over her dinner and bright pink peas went splattering every which way in the kitchen, confirming any doubts they had about her magical blood.

When she was three, her father gifted her a toy broomstick and she laughed till she was sick, zipping underfoot as her mother tried to do laundry.

When she was four, she first got hold of her older brother's wand as he prepared to start his education at Hogwarts, and rather than rebelling in her grubby hands, a gorgeous shower of golden sparks burst forth. On that day, little Evette discovered her lifelong passion.

You have _no idea_ how _annoying_ a six-year-old with a life goal is.

Atlas Ollivander-Wright was a month away from graduation by the time his little sister received her letter from Hogwarts. While both were truly a bit sad they wouldn't be able to see one another at school, Evette was secretly a little relieved that she would be able to forge her own path, free of her brother's rather shining reputation.

By the time she had finished shopping for her school supplies, Atlas was out of the country, well on the way to becoming a powerful Auror. While she was obviously excited for him, she was slightly nervous as the prospect of essentially becoming an only child.

But no matter. She poured herself into her study of wandlore and magic, even if maybe she should have been pouring herself into her actual spellbooks. She was determined to learn as much as she could before she actually started at Hogwarts; she loved the idea of being able to determine someone's personality by what kind of wand had chosen them.

As I said, a child with a clearly-set life goal can be quite irritating.

But I daresay, in circumstances such as little Evette Ollivander-Wright's, a clearly-set life goal may have been the best thing for her. It gave her a few pegs to get knocked down from when schooling started, and honestly, isn't that what any spoiled child needs?

❧

Evette was nearly shaking with nerves when the Hogwarts Express gave a great puff of steam and began to pull away from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. She stood at the front of the car she'd boarded, trunk in hand, craning her neck till her waving parents were out of sight.

It didn't take her long to find a near-empty compartment, though she had to squeeze past a rather burly red-haired sixth year to do so. Within, there was just one girl, sitting cross-legged and leaning her cheek on her palm, watching the scenery roll by.

"Can I sit here?" Evette asked rather bluntly.

The girl jumped and turned to look at Evette. She had tan skin, big, almond-shaped eyes, and thick black hair that hung to nearly her ribs. She gestured towards the empty seat across from her without saying a word.

Evette heaved her trunk into the overhead compartment. The girl's trunk was up there, too, as well as a young tawny owl in a cage. The owl blinked at Evette and ruffled its feathers but didn't make a sound. Evette sat down across from the girl, who jumped and looked back out the window. She'd obviously been staring.

"I'm Evette," said Evette, "but most everyone calls me Evie."

"I'm Lara," said the girl. "I don't have a nickname, though."

"That's alright." Evette shrugged carelessly. Her feet just barely met the floor of the compartment, so she swung her legs a little childishly as she watched the green hills roll by. A couple of third years ran down the corridor, laughing loudly. Evette caught Lara watching them wistfully.

Noticing that she was wearing muggle clothes, Evette asked, "Is this your first year?"

Lara nodded, obviously as nervous as Evette, but feeling it in a much different way. "You?"

Evette nodded too. "My brother just graduated, which is nice, because he was almost Head Boy, which would have been a little intimidating, but I kind of wish he would have been here for a year, at least, to show me the ropes. I'll just have to rely on the stories he told me in his letters."

"What kind of stories?" Lara asked, her eyes shining almost hungrily.

Evette arched her eyebrow. "Just about his classes and stuff. What have you heard?"

Lara chewed on her bottom lip, bouncing in her seat a little before blurting out, "I didn't even know I was a witch till I got my letter."

Evette felt a bit bad for ogling, but she'd never met a muggle-born before; she'd heard about them, of course, and the way they'd been persecuted by You-Know-Who and his followers back when she was just a baby, but she'd never actually _seen_ one.

Before she knew it, Evette was dumping every last bit of information she could think of upon Lara and vice versa. The hours rolled by along with the Scottish highlands as the girls swapped growing-up stories and expectations for school. At long last, as the sun was dipping down the caress the horizon outside, Evette paused to catch her breath and change into her robes. 

Lara pulled out her wand and set it on the seat behind her before pulling her robes rather forcefully over her head. Evette's eyes immediately lit up; in all that time, somehow the topic had yet to arrive. Before she could open her mouth to ask, however, there was a knock on the compartment door and it slid open.

There were three boys standing in the corridor, obviously all also in their first year judging from the lack of house colors on their robes. Two of them were very tall and skinny and pale and one of them was rather short with dark skin and dreadlocks. With one glance, Evette instantly knew that the tall boys with flaming hair were twins.

"Hello," said Lara politely.

"Hello," said the twin on the right. "Have either of you seen the trolley go by? We just missed it."

Lara and Evette shook their heads. The boys exchanged disappointed glances. Evette's gaze was drawn to the twin on the left; his wand was in his hand and he was tapping it against his thigh like he was nervous.

"Can I see that?" she asked, and without waiting for a reply, she leaned forward and quickly pulled the wand out of his grip.

"Oi!" the boy protested, but she had already stepped out of reach as he made a grab for it.

She examined the wand, turning it in her hands and relishing in the warmth spreading from where her fingertips made contact with the polished surface. She still struggled to describe the sensation she felt when she interacted with wands; it was like each wand had a heartbeat, and her own would sync up to it and allow her to discern the powers each individual wand had as it shared a bit of its magic with her.

"Spruce and dragon heartstring?" she asked, but it sounded more like a statement. "Twelve and three-quarters inches, quite flexible." To prove her point, she flexed the slim wand between her hands, showing where it moved with the strain rather than resisting it. She looked back up at the boy. "Am I right?"

She extended it back towards him, handle-first. Eyes wide, he took it and slid it into his pocket. He glanced at his twin and then at his friend. "Y-yeah, that's exactly right," he said. 

He was speechless. Evette felt a small glimmer of pride; these boys struck her as the type that weren't speechless very often.

"How did you know that?" asked the other twin brusquely. 

Evette allowed a small smile to pop up on her cheeks. "I'm good with wands," she replied simply, if not a bit smug.

"Do me, do me!" Lara squealed, reaching behind her and thrusting her wand into Evette's hand. 

Smiling at the attention, Evette followed the same steps. She looked back at Lara, finally saying confidently, "Larch and unicorn hair, ten and three-quarters inches, and swishy." To demonstrate, she whipped it through the air, making a sound like a switch being cast. She held it out to Lara, who took it, regarding Evette with a near-reverent expression.

Evette turned back to the boys in the corridor, who looked more confused than anything. She flickered her gaze between the boy in the middle and the boy on the right. She held out her hand, offering to do the same with their wands, but they both almost flinched away from her outstretched palm. The twin on the right's hand drifted subconsciously towards his back pocket, where he was likely keeping his wand.

"Cool trick," offered the twin on the left, though he sounded like he was talking around a lump in his throat.

"We'd better get going," said the boy in the middle, speaking up for the first time. It was clear he didn't quite know what to make of her; none of them did. "We were hoping to pocket some chocolate frogs before we arrived."

"I suppose we'll see you for the Sorting Ceremony," Evette said, sitting back down. She was unbothered, and it left the boys a little perturbed.

"Yeah, I suppose so," said the twin on the right, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to smile but couldn't. He turned and started down the corridor, the darker boy following close behind, but the twin whose wand she had examined loitered a moment longer.

In addition to his flaming red hair, he had orange freckles spattered across his pale skin and intelligent brown eyes. He stood with a confidence that suggested he was no stranger to magic, or even the Hogwarts Express, despite being a first year.

"I'm Evette," Evette said after a few moments of awkward silence.

"That's Fred," the boy replied, pointing after his brother and their friend. Evette frowned a bit, puzzled. The boy stepped back, slid the compartment door shut, and followed after his companions, his gaze never leaving Evette's.

"I didn't know you could do that!" Lara said, once again bouncing in her seat, quickly drawing Evette's attention away from the awestruck boy. "Is that something all magic-born people can do?" Her expression suddenly turned rather sour. "Is that something I could do, if I wasn't born to—to—to Muggles?" She obviously still wasn't used to the word.

Evette laughed, drawing her knees to her chest. "No, definitely not. It's really rare, even for purebloods. My family has a knack for wandlore and the like, but the gift hasn't presented itself so strongly in—oh, about seventy or eighty years by now." 

Lara's eyes bulged once more. "So you're, like, a big deal!"

Evette puffed up a bit at that. "Yeah," she said brightly, "I guess I am."

❧

Hogsmeade was lovely at night, but the first years were too excited to properly take it in. There'd be time for that later. 

As they bundled off the train, their attention was seized by a giant of a man and his shouts of "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" Twice as tall as the seventh years and four times as wide, the wild mane of dark hair held a lantern, bobbing above the crowd and gathering the smallest members.

The large man led the first years down a narrow path around the village until it finally opened up on a shale-lined shore of a massive lake, black in the moonlight. Above the lake on top of a mountain sat the great old castle that Evette knew to be Hogwarts school. As the first years took in the awesome sight, a small fleet of boats hit the shore with dull _thuds._

"No more'n four to a boat!" their guide instructed as the first years surged forward eagerly.

Lara and Evette stuck together. Evette did catch a glimpse of the tall red-haired twins from earlier, but they didn't spare her a second glance as they clambered into a boat with their friend from before. 

Lara took the front of a boat and Evette squeezed in behind her. A brunette boy and small blonde girl climbed in after Evette; the boy smiled excitedly but the girl looked like she might be sick.

"Ready?" the big man boomed, taking up an entire boat for himself. "Right, then—forward!"

And forward they went. Evette couldn't help but lean to the side and peer into the water as the boats carved easily through it. 

She glanced around, taking note of all the people she'd be spending her time with here at Hogwarts. There were two girls talking excitedly in the boat to their immediate right that looked like the friendly sort. The twins and their friend had found a fourth member, a rather mousy boy who had his eyes screwed tight shut. Evette couldn't believe someone would want to miss this view.

As she watched, one of the twins—she couldn't tell them apart—leaned forward and plunged his arm up to the elbow into the water. He gave a cry somewhere between delight and disgust, but didn't withdraw his arm, glancing over his shoulder at his buddies with a raucous smile.

"It's _enormous!"_ Lara said, glancing over her shoulder at Evette and pointing at the castle. "How will we ever find out where anything is?"

"We'll have seven years to figure it out," Evette teased.

Eyes shining, Lara turned back to face the rapidly approaching castle. It was getting bigger and bigger than it had first seemed with every moment. Finally, the big man called, "Watch yer heads!" as they passed through a curtain of ivy and came to a dock in a large stone cavern underneath the mountain the castle was perched upon.

It was a little chaotic getting all the first years out of the boats, but soon enough they were following him up an immense stone staircase seemingly carved into the cavern itself. They finally reached a rather ornate oak door. As the collection of eleven-year-olds caught their breath, their guide raised his large fist and knocked three times.

The door swung open, revealing a rather severe-looking woman in emerald green robes and a very tall witch's hat. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall and led the crowd of children up even more steps and into the castle itself. They finally came to a halt in front of an elaborate set of gargantuan doors in what could have only been the entrance hall.

"I can take it from here, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said. The big man dipped his head and disappeared through a smaller door farther down the hall.

Professor McGonagall explained the four houses of Hogwarts, as well as what it meant to be in a house. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes in front of the entire school," she informed them. "I will return when we are ready for you." And then she followed Hagrid through that smaller door.

The first years stood around, most muttering nervously. All the excitement from the lake had gone from Lara's face. She fixed Evette with a scared expression. "What's the Sorting Ceremony?" 

She did a double-take, because the mousy boy who had ridden with the twins had asked them the exact same question at the exact same time just a few feet away. Evette opened her mouth to reassure Lara, but closed it again when she heard the twins' response.

One casually draped his arm around the mousy boy's shoulder, saying confidently, "Nothing too major, honest."

"As long as you read all your course books, you'll be fine," assured the other one. Their shorter friend had a huge grin on his face.

The first twin went on, "It's only a little scuffle with a troll. The trick is to keep a level head, and watch out for the nasty bits on the end of the club—those are what really hurt. Relax, you've only got to stun it."

The crowd of first years began to talk faster and louder, their nerves skyrocketing with this new information. The mousy boy's eyes were wide open now, and he was practically shaking. Lara gripped Evette's arm so hard it hurt, but Evette just stepped forward so she was right behind the twins and said plainly, "No, you haven't."

The boys turned around, eyebrows arched at who was ruining their little game. The one who didn't have his arm around the mousy boy gasped a little, obviously recognizing her.

"W-what?" squeaked the mousy boy.

"You haven't got to fight a troll," she told him. "They're just messing with you." Realizing the crowd of first years were attentively listening, she spoke up, saying confidently, "You've only got to put on a hat, and it tells you what house you're in. It's quite easy."

The twin dropped his arm from around the mousy boy and stepped closer to Evette. She stared evenly back at him, even if she had to tilt her chin up to do so. He had a disappointed frown on his face. After looking her in the eyes for a few moments, he sighed and stepped back, crossing his arms and turning to front.

Their shorter friend nudged the other twin. "Looks like we've already found out whose gonna be the thorn in our side."

"I beg your pardon?" snapped Evette.

"Careful, or she'll steal your wand," the twin he'd spoken to replied seriously.

"I didn't _steal_ it," Evette protested. 

"Right, you were just showing off," he retorted.

Evette's mouth dropped open. "I was doing no such thing, _Fred."_

A huge grin instantly appeared on the twin's face, but before he could say anything, Professor McGonagall had reemerged from the side door and was walking quickly towards them. Lara pulled Evette away from the twins and their confrontation, and Evette realized too late that everyone had been watching it go down.

"We're ready for you now," said Professor McGonagall, and the giant doors swung open.

The Great Hall was immense. Evette didn't consider herself a shy person, but as she filed after the mousy boy, she found herself shrinking from the gaze of several hundred much older and obviously much more knowledgable Hogwarts staff and students. The walk from the doors to the ends of the house tables was painfully along, but finally, she joined the group of nervous first years bunching up in front of an old stool.

McGonagall crossed to the stool and placed upon it an old hat, not unlike the one she was currently wearing. Someone nudged one of the twins, and he stuck his tongue out in reply. It was the one who had obviously been more put-out with her raining on their little joke; she could tell from the way he would shift to ensure his back was still to her.

She waited for Professor McGonagall to call them up, or place the hat on their heads, but instead, a rip near the brim of the hat opened wide and it began to sing. To be honest, Evette's nerves were bouncing all over the place so much that she couldn't quite remember the words, but then it was over, and everyone was clapping.

McGonagall unfurled a scroll, cleared her throat, and called, "Aaron, Lucy!"

A young girl with dark brown pigtails approached the stool on unsteady legs and sat down. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head and it covered her eyes. After a few tense moments, in which Lucy Aaron's knuckles were white on the stool underneath her, the rip opened again and that hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

Another girl leaned over and tugged on Evette's sleeve, her face shining. "You were right—this is easy!" she whispered, loud enough that one of the twins couldn't help but glance over. His face turned sour.

Feeling a little smug, Evette folded her arms and continued to watch the crowd around her thin as the first years were sorted.

She didn't have to wait long till "Crumb, Lara!" was called.

Evette was curious. Of all the things they discussed on the train, their prospective houses hadn't been one of them. She didn't know Lara well, other than what she could assume from the wand that had chosen her, and that had suggested good things. Evette couldn't help but think of Atlas, and how proud he'd be if she wound up in the same house he had.

A shout of "GRYFFINDOR!" shook Evette from her thoughts, and she joined the table farthest on the right in cheering. Looking as if she might faint, Lara scrambled down from the stool and squeezed into an empty seat at the table.

"Derriweather, Dawn," the girl who had sat in their boat and nearly been sick, also went to Gryffindor, but the boy who'd sat with them, "Diggory, Cedric," went to Hufflepuff. So far, only "Bletchley, Miles" had been made a Slytherin, and Evette had to say, they looked like a rather unpleasant lot. They were eyeing the first years like they were trying to determine who would win them the most points or be best at Charms. It made Evette's skin crawl a bit.

The mousy boy, "Jacobsen, Moises," went to Gryffindor... and so did "Johnson, Angelina" and "Jordan, Lee," the twins' friend. They cheered and applauded loudly at that, thumping him on the back before allowing him to go take a seat.

Looking around the group around her getting smaller, Evette gave a startled jump when she heard, "Ollivander-Wright, Evette!" _Already?_

Feeling every eye on her and significantly less brave than she had in the entrance hall, she walked up the steps and took a seat. The last thing she saw before McGonagall dropped the hat over her eyes were twin devilish grins staring at her.

"Ohoho," said the voice of the Sorting Hat in her ear, "I've been wondering when I'd get the other one of you! Your brother was quite impressive, quite talented, yes.... A rather hard fit, if I do say so. You, however, I think I'll have a bit of an easier time with. Ambitious, determined, loyal, creative... yes, I see it all, but it's nearly drowned out by all this _fire._ What exactly have you got to prove?"

It was a rhetorical question; Evette doubted the hat would even hear her if she answered, and anyways, she didn't want to say anything out of fear that the whole school might hear.

"Yes, yes, the longer you sit, the clearer it becomes. A strong bloodline flows throw you, and it will be stronger still in GRYFFINDOR!"

Evette slid off the seat and took off the hat, surprised to find that she was shaking. She glanced up to see the twins, slack-jawed and almost disappointed. She couldn't resist throwing a cheeky smile their way as she skipped over to take a seat by Lara, who was cheering as loudly as the rest of their new housemates.

Evette didn't pay much attention to the other houses after that. "Smalls, Carter" and "Spinnet, Alicia" both joined them in Gryffindor. It was getting down to the last of the first years; Evette was beginning to wonder if the twins were ever going to get sorted.

But sorted they were. After "Warrington, Cassius" went to Slytherin, there were only three students left. Evette felt a funny sort of sensation in her stomach as the twins linked arms, shooting each other cheeky grins.

"Weasley, Fred" was first. She was still struggling to differentiate them, but he seemed to be the one who had tried to give her the cold shoulder back in the entrance hall. Her stomach dropped as she realized that meant she'd addressed the wrong one by name. Within moments, the hat had shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

Farther down the table were two older boys with hair the same flaming red as the twins. When Fred's house was announced, they both stood and applauded so hard that Evette worried their hands would fall off.

Smiling at their welcome, Fred paused right before he was about to sit down across from Evette. He spread his arms in a hushing gesture, and to Evette's shock, most of the table actually listened to the eleven-year-old.

"Weasley, George" was already on the stool, seemingly a little less confident without his second half. His shoulders were scrunched up, and he swallowed nervously before Professor McGonagall plopped the hat on his head.

Evette expected it to take as briefly as Fred's had, but to her (and several other Gryffindors') surprise, the hat was quiet. Fred's smile seemed to drop incrimentally. Glancing down the table, Evette saw who she presumed were the twins' brothers swapping curious glances. The whole Great Hall seemed to be holding its breath.

Then, at last— "GRYFFINDOR!"

The applause was deafening. Fred jumped up next to Lee Jordan and stomped his feet, pulling George up next to him to take a bow. Glancing around, Evette noticed that students from other houses were not at all put off by their antics. Judging from the fact that everyone was amused by them, Evette guessed that the Weasley boys already at school were well-liked.

As "Yale, Lydia" was called up to be the final first year, Fred and George dropped into their seats. Evette could only tell them apart because George's ears were currently a little pinker.

Fred grinned crookedly at her across the way, leaning forward on his elbows. "Looks like we're stuck together, Evette."

"Looks like it," Evette answered.

"Why didn't you _say_ you were an Ollivander?" George asked. "That would have made the wand-stealing way less weird!"

"Ollivander-Wright," Evette corrected, rather than give a serious answer.

Shaking his head in amusement, George was saved from answering by the hat shouting "HUFFLEPUFF!" and ending the Sorting Ceremony.

As Dumbledore made his speech and waved his hands to start the feast, Evette could tell the Weasley twins kept shooting glances her way. She ignored each one, instead chatting to Lara and Angelina Johnson.

It was sure to be the start of a most interesting year if _these_ were her classmates.


	2. year one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven-year-olds are the scariest little monsters on the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a playlist for this fic on spotify, if that's your kind of thing! just look up "dragon heartstring" and my user is lkassk :)

**II  
** _One False Start Later_

❈

September 1989

The beginning of Evette's first year at Hogwarts, however, did not leave much room for classmate shenanigans. Everyone was so bothered trying to avoid getting lost that it left them hardly any time to make friends or enemies. Evette and Lara were late to nearly every class that first week due to the shifting stairs, mazelike corridors, and sheer size of Hogwarts castle.

While she may have thought that the Weasley twins would be as much a thorn in her side as they expected her to be to them, even they weren't impervious to the castle's tricks. On that first Wednesday, the flame-haired matching set got themselves so lost that they wound up stuck behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy on the first floor. 

If Evette hadn't been sprinting towards the greenhouses, already having missed the bell, she would have stopped to laugh at them; even as it was, she struggled to hide her smug grin as they slipped in ten minutes after her, apologetic smiles on their faces.

Indeed, it wasn't until late September that Evette and the twins actually had any reason to butt heads.

All first years were required to attend flying lessons every Friday afternoon for six weeks, starting the second week of term. The first two were really just for the Muggle-borns and those who didn't grow up around Quidditch. Flying had always come naturally to Evette, and even if it wasn't the path she wanted to take, she didn't mind boasting that she was quite good at it.

Everyone was eager to see how the Weasley twins were at flying, since their older brother Charlie was captain of the Gryffindor house Quidditch team. Much to Evette's displeasure, they were also naturals, and were annoyed that they had to attend the hour-long lessons that just covered everything they already knew.

In the third week, Madam Hooch finally announced that they would begin doing laps around the Quidditch pitch. 

It didn't take long for the twins to push the rules: flying higher than the mandated three feet and faster than the snail's pace Hooch had established. After the third time Evette tattled on them, the one she guessed was Fred flew up next to her, keeping pace very well.

"Would you stop doing that?" he hissed. "It's not fun when you do!"

"I'm not trying to have fun," she retorted.

"No, you're just trying to ruin ours!" he snapped.

Before she could answer, Hooch had shouted at him to get back in line. Shooting her one last glare, he joined his brother at the front of the line curving behind the goalposts. With ten minutes left in the period, Madam Hooch gave them permission to break from the line and test their comfort zones.

Evette was content to do figure-eights with Lara, who was actually quite good for a Muggle-born, but she'd apparently done something unforgivable in the twins' eyes. They kept racing past her so fast that she had to perform some rather silly maneuvers to get out of their way in time. With Hooch distracted by some Ravenclaws, Evette took it upon herself to teach them a lesson.

Which is how she and the one called George ended up in the hospital wing after she knocked him from his broom and they both fell thirty feet through the air—he with a gently sprained wrist, her with a painfully twisted ankle.

It wasn't like any of them had said it, but from that point on it was official. There was a fierce rivalry between the Weasley twins and Evette Ollivander-Wright.

Poor Lara Crumb was dragged into it by proximity.

❧

October 1989

Evette had been determined to finish her Transfiguration homework so that it wasn't hanging over her for the Halloween feast. She finally completed the last question ten minutes past the feast's start time, eagerly slipping out of the portrait hole and skipping down the stairs. 

Her stomach growled at the prospect of all the tasty Halloween treats that were waiting for her downstairs. She picked up speed, excited by the prospect of watching the evening's entertainment with Lara.

Unfortunately, as she jogged down the third-floor corridor, a strong scent hit her nose. Crinkling it a bit, she was forced to slow her pace, reaching the end of the hall and slowly craning her neck around the corner.

_Ah-hah!_

The Weasley twins—undoubtedly up to some Halloween mischief. She was better at telling them apart now since they spent so much time trying to get under her skin during class. Fred was the one who kept stooping over to place small brown objects at long intervals along the floor; George was the one holding the bag full of the little brown objects.

The smell, the objects, the faint haze at the end of the hall—it all clicked in Evette's mind. _Dungbombs!_

It was the sweetest reward for pushing herself to finish her coursework. She'd land the Weasleys in detention, go down to the feast, and laugh harder than usual at Lee Jordan's bad jokes. A truly splendid Halloween.

"Mmrow?"

And what luck! The caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was at her feet! Mrs. Norris looked up at Evette with yellow, lamp-like eyes. Evette held a finger to her lips and pointed around the corner. Mrs. Norris peered in the direction she'd been directed before turning on her tail and trotting back the way she came, obviously on her way to beckon her master.

The Weasleys sealed their own fates by setting off the dungbombs just as Filch arrived on the scene. Squeezing behind a tapestry, Evette delightedly watched as he dragged the complaining twins down the hall and towards his office. 

Unable to resist, Evette followed. Filch slammed his office door shut after he threw the boys in, and she waited patiently outside, hoping to hear what punishment they'd receive. Filch was shouting... the twins were weakly protesting... and then the shouting faded. Frowning, Evette stepped closer to the door, but as soon as she did, there was a loud _BANG!_ from inside.

She clapped her hand over her nose, eyes watering as the potent smell of dungbomb seeped under the door. Filch obviously had missed one when he'd confiscated their bag. She was about to turn and run from the horrendous aroma when the door banged open. To her shock, the twins burst out, wild-eyed and _laughing._

Fred had one fist balled in George's sleeve, and clamped in the other was a large, folded piece of parchment. George's eyes landed on Evette, and she expected him to push her into Filch's office and slam the door. Instead, to her surprise, he seized the collar of her robes, shouted "Let's go!" and dragged her with them down the hall.

Filch was screaming behind them, and Evette realized with a sinking heart that if they got caught, she'd be in as much trouble as they were. They all bolted into the Great Hall, gasping for breath and reeking of stinkbomb. As they collapsed into their seats at the Gryffindor table, Evette reached over and seized the piece of parchment.

"What's this?" she panted. "All that for a ruddy bit of spare parchment?"

George opened his mouth to speak, his face indignant, but Fred smacked him with the parchment as he swiped it back from her. "Never hurts to have more parchment," he reasoned.

Except for the next few weeks, whenever they thought they could get away with it, the twins had the parchment pulled out and were prodding it with their wands and muttering—in the back of classrooms, during breakfast, even in the common room.

On one such evening, after most everyone had gone to bed, Evette curled up in the armchair by the fire with _Wand Woods and What They Mean._ The twins were at the table behind her, and she doubted they even knew she was there.

All of a sudden, one gave a great shout. Evette (who, in all honesty, had been drifting to sleep) shot upright, climbing out of the chair and craning her neck to see what they were looking at.

It was that parchment, except instead of being blank, now it said _'flickering into life here and there'._ As soon as she read the words, Fred flipped the parchment over, picked it up, and stood up, his eyes wide.

"I'm tired," he said in a robotic voice. "I think I'll go up to the dormitories. And you, George?"

"Me, too," said George. The boys scrambled out of the common room, leaving Evette standing alone in the common room with the fire dying low. 

She didn't see them with that silly parchment after that. She guessed they'd finally tossed it out.

❧

December 1989

In her war with the Weasley twins, Evette had the tactical disadvantage in that she was scared to be caught. It meant she had to put in more work to let the twins bust themselves, rather than do it herself.

Of course, the Weasleys had little qualms about playing dirty, and they knew there was little Evette could do in response. 

For example:

One day, a few weeks before the winter holidays were supposed to start, Evette stumbled upon the Weasley twins stuffing the crack under Filch's door full of Filibuster fireworks. Her jaw dropped open.

"Wait!" George said as she began to form her first reprimanding words. "We'll save you the trouble!"

Fred dropped a gently sparking firework down her grey jumper before he and his twin bolted out of sight.

Lara was a great help in plotting revenge, however. It was her idea that led to Evette getting even about the whole _firework-down-the-shirt_ thing in Potions later that week. She and Lara "accidentally" grabbed double the ingredients for their density solution, and when Snape wasn't looking, dumped their extras into the twins' cauldron.

The result was delightful. Already a tricky potion, their concoction erupted, showering gloopy green goo down their fronts. Lara and Evette tried to hide their laughter in their hands; it was quite difficult.

So it went on. To get back at them for the Potions debacle, the twins bewitched the girls' quills to dance around just out of reach in Charms, making for a very distracting and frustrating pop quiz. When Christmas break arrived, Evette worried that the prank war would lead to one of them not being able to return to school in the new year.

As it turned out, a fair amount of first years would be staying at Hogwarts for the break, wanting to experience a Hogwarts Christmas for the first time—Evette, Lara, and the twins included.

Three days before Christmas, Evette agreed to go with Lara down to the greenhouses; she was working on an advanced project for Professor Sprout, something that filled her with justified pride. It was quite cold. Evette was bundled up in several layers, but she still had to burrow her nose into her collar to stave off the cold.

Everything was going well in the greenhouse—the temperature in there was, of course, managed, so the plants didn't worry about the cold. Stretching as she stepped out, Evette allowed herself to relish in the sight of her breath fogging in front of her mouth.

_It was the little things in life._

Lara looped her arm through Evette's, adding a skip to her step as they made to return up to the castle and the much warmer common room.

Until, of course, the Weasley twins had to ruin the idyllic moment.

A sudden movement at the edge of the forbidden forest caught Evette's attention. Both figures were wearing hats, but she'd grown tragically used to their matching lanky forms.

"They were in the forest!" Lara gasped, stating the obvious. "That's not allowed!"

"Quick, we've got to tell someone," Evette said, nudging Lara's side, but the other girl didn't move. She was frozen, stock-still, until she suddenly waved her mittened hands wildly, beginning to point.

" _Oooh, one of them's hurt, Evie!_ "

Lara started to run down the hill towards the boys, and Evette followed—surprisingly less irritated than she would have expected. Sure enough, one of the twins was leaning heavily on the other, his leg seemingly not wanting to work.

"Bloody hell, it's you," said the twin acting as a support for his brother as the girls got closer. She could see now that it was George who was struggling to move and Fred helping him along. Shaking his head frustratedly, Fred snapped, "Better than nothing. Can you help us up to the castle? Don't worry, I'm sure we'll be getting in loads of trouble for this."

"Get Madam Pomfrey," Evette told Lara without pause. Lara nodded, a determined set to her jaw, and turned, running back up the path towards the castle.

Evette slipped an arm around George's side, and he leaned heavily on her and his brother, his face screwed up in what was either pain or exertion. As they heaved him up the hill, he tried to make it easier, but there wasn't much he could do.

"What were you guys doing in the forest?" Evette panted.

"Same thing we always do," Fred said bitterly. When she just stared at him, he added, "Exploring."

"And what's wrong with his leg?"

"Did you know there are bubotubers in the forest?" George grunted.

"Bubotubers?" Evette repeated. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"It's a plant," Fred explained. "The pus is supposed to have healing properties. Diluted, anyway. The undiluted pus, though... not the greatest for the skin."

"That's an understatement," George managed to say from between clenched teeth.

By the time Evette had helped to heave George back up the castle steps, Madam Pomfrey and Lara were rushing towards the trio. Following close after were Professor McGonagall and—Evette's eyes bulged— _Professor Dumbledore._

"Quick, quick, get him to the hospital wing," said Madam Pomfrey. "What happened to him?"

Fred went about explaining it to the adults, this time adding a few more details. They'd found a bubotuber, and George had scratched his ankle on a low-hanging branch earlier, so they figured they'd get some of the pus and spread it on the scratch, not knowing that it would make George's entire leg seize up and grow a sort of hard, calloused shell.

Madam Pomfrey was an incredibly skilled healer, so George would be fine in no time. Evette couldn't help but think maybe the twins wished his injury was a little harsher, so that maybe Professor Dumbledore would wait to lay their punishment down.

Lara and Evette stood nervously at the foot of George's bed. Honestly, Evette had half-expected Fred to say she'd been in the forest with them, but as soon as Professor McGonagall had cast a curious glance towards the girls, he quickly said, "Those two just happened to be in the area, I swear, Professor. When's Evette ever been on the wrong side of some mischief?"

"Right enough," sniffed Professor McGonagall. "And as for you two?"

Geroge winced, but it was hard to tell if that was from the paste Madam Pomfrey was applying to his calf—which looked rather like flesh-colored tree bark—or from being caught in such a crime. Fred just hung is head.

And for the first time, Professor Dumbledore spoke.

The Headmaster did not have a particularly loud or rough voice. It was gentle, the whisper of a kindly old grandfather. But the disappointment in his voice felt like ice water pouring down Evette's spine, and she wasn't even the one he was disappointed in.

"More than anything else, I'm relieved young master George is going to be alright," Professor Dumbledore said. "But I need you boys to understand that out of all the rules you have pushed thus far, this is one most grievous. Though of course, I would never wish for a student to be injured, I hope this is lesson enough to convince you that any restrictions—such as those upon the Forbidden Forest—are truly, with the most sincerity, in place for your own safety. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," said Fred. George just grunted, then looked a little embarrassed.

"Forty points will be taken from Gryffindor. Should you be caught again, it will be more."

Was it Evette's imagination, or was there a flash of amusement behind Professor Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles? He nodded and turned to go. After he'd only taken a few steps, however, he turned back around and his gaze landed on Evette and Lara. To Evette's surprise, he smiled at them.

"Ten points to Gryffindor for a pair of good sports."

Lara and Evette exchanged delightedly surprised glances. George and Fred were staring at them with wide eyes. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, drawing their attention once more. "The both of you will have detention to be served as soon as Mr. Weasley is discharged from the infirmary." She narrowed her eyes. "Let this be a lesson to you."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," the twins chorused.

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and followed Dumbledore. Evette stood there, elbow still interlocked with Lara's, a little unsure of what to do. Fred had pulled over a chair to sit beside George. Madam Pomfrey had just unsheathed a frightening-looking metal instrument that was now hovering over a bug-eyed George's calf.

"Unless either of you are pursuing careers as Healers at St. Mungos, I'd recommend you skedaddle," Madam Pomfrey said rather sharply to the girls. "This is not the most attractive sight."

"What are you going to do?" Lara asked in a very small voice.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "The bubotuber pus has essentially grown a second layer of skin on poor Mr. Weasley. He won't feel a thing, but we've got to get it removed."

Evette didn't need to be told twice; tearing her eyes from George's panicked expression, she grabbed Lara's hand and dragged her from the hospital wing. The last thing the girls heard as they fled was Madam Pomfrey saying, "Best avert your eyes, boy," and Fred's disgusted cry of "Wicked!"

❧

February 1990

The twins seemed to learn their lesson after their little forest excursion. While they were fond of causing trouble and landing themselves in detention it seemed, they were not fond of losing enough house points to get withering glares from their fellow Gryffindors.

Their prank battle against Evette and Lara resumed, much to Evette's frustration. She'd thought that a personal scolding from Dumbledore would have knocked some sense into them. She should have known better.

There was a slight shift in their tactics, however. Whereas before, their pranks had gradually gotten more and more out of hand, they were better at mediating them. Now, they were just vaguely irritating and relatively harmless. 

During Potions, they bewitched Lara's cauldron to sing every time she dipped in her wand to stir. How exactly they pulled off the charm, Evette hadn't the foggiest idea, but she enjoyed laughing with the rest of the class when Snape tried to fix the problem by explaining that Lara had accidentally made a Singing Solution. When he went to add the proper ingredients and remedy her potion, the whole thing turned an ugly shade of burnt red—almost the same color as Snape's face as he realized his error.

Gryffindor lost five points for the joke, but it was well worth it to everyone involved.

A practical joke the twins were obviously more proud of occurred just past Valentine's Day, and it was one that Evette didn't realize till she was halfway through her last class of the day. Since breakfast, her necktie had been bothering her, but no matter how she tugged on it, nothing felt better.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window of the History of Magic classroom as she once again dug her fingers into her collar, trying to ease up on the tie a bit. It loosened for a blissful second... then as she watched, it cinched right back up again.

Evette spun in her seat just fast enough to see George Weasley slip his wand back up his sleeve and look innocently towards Professor Binns. It only gave him away because it was the first time she'd ever noticed George _actually_ paying attention to Professor Binns.

If it'd been happening to anyone else, she would've smiled. How very clever. They'd obviously taken turns, keeping an eye on her throughout the day and making sure she never got too comfortable. But no more funny business. Huffing tiredly, she undid her tie altogether so it was just two strings hanging around her neck.

She saw Fred's face fall.

❧

April 1990

Evette was granted a blissful prank war respite over the Easter holidays, when all the Weasley brothers returned home. It was at this time that she and Lara began to get to know the girls they were dorming with for the first time.

First, there was Dawn Derriweather. Dawn was a small, pasty girl with short blonde hair that was comically fluffy. She had bright blue eyes and a very sharp nose. At first, Evette thought she was just a grumpy person, but she quickly realized that most of what came out of Dawn's mouth was sarcastic.

Then there was Alicia Spinnet. Alicia had tan skin and dark hair she normally kept in a high ponytail. She was the tallest of all the girls in the first year dormitory, but the most soft-spoken. She was the one who never failed to laugh when Dawn made a dry comment, which Dawn certainly appreciated.

Finally, there was Angelina Johnson, a dark-skinned girl with bright, intelligent eyes and a passion for Quidditch that Evette had never encountered before. Her hair was almost always in a collection of long braids. On Easter, her parents shipped her a giant basket full of more chocolate than all the House-elves at Hogwarts could eat, so she was more than eager to share with Evette and Lara.

As the Easter holidays came to a close, the girls had to reluctantly turn back to their schoolwork, especially since exams would be soon to follow. On that last Sunday evening before resuming term, they huddled on the sofas and chairs around the fireplace, the only noises from the flickering flames, the scratching of quill on parchment, and the unwrapping of chocolates.

"I must say," Dawn said, breaking the quiet, "I do not like this Mr. Binns. I do not think that this History of Magic is really all that interesting."

Alicia snickered into her hand. 

"I just want to get past the old times," Angelina agreed, laying on her back on the scarlet rug. "Once things get more... current, I think it'll be more interesting."

"Oh good," sighed Dawn. "Just five or so more years till we reach the year nineteen-hundred."

The laughter from the girls quickly shifted to disappointed groans. Evette pulled the wrapper off of a grape-flavored Muggle lollipop and stuck in her mouth, getting started on the conclusion of her History of Magic paper. No sooner had she marked the last period of her essay did the portrait hole swing open.

Angelina rolled onto her stomach and Lara shifted in her seat to see who it was coming back, but Evette didn't bother. She was scanning her essay for glaring errors—not a proper proof-read, just enough to not feel like an idiot when Binns handed back a paper riddled with mixed up there/their/they'res. Besides, the students who had gone home for Easter holidays were due back this evening anyway.

Unfortunately, two of those students decided to make themselves well known. Fancy a guess who?

"Johnson! Spinnet! Didja miss us?"

Angelina and Alicia were both laughing, and a hole began to form in Evette's stomach. Alicia scooted closer to the armrest of the sofa, and soon two twin gingers had vaulted over the back of the couch and plopped themselves down between Alicia and Evette. 

Evette pulled her knees up tighter, slinking down lower and trying to keep her eyes on her essay.

"Wicked haul, Johnson," said Fred, leaning forward and aimlessly searching through her basket of goodies. "Free game?"

"Obviously," Angelina answered.

"Where's Lee?" asked George, looking around.

"Probably upstairs, waiting for his only friends to return," Alicia answered, but George wasn't listening. He had noticed Evette hunched down beside him, her brow furrowed more than any History of Magic essay really warranted. A slow smile spread across his face, and before she could protest, he had pulled the essay out of her grip and was scanning over it.

"Oi, give it back!" she protested, reaching for it, but he easily batted her hands away with one of his own.

"This is fair play for the wand theft when we first met," he said shortly.

Evette's ears felt hot; she _hated_ having other people read over her schoolwork, especially when it was someone who she could guarantee would judge her for it. She sat, tensely awaiting his rude comment about its shoddy sentence structure or whatnot.

After a few moments, though, he offered it to her and said casually, "That's actually decent, I hadn't thought about the seventh decree that way. I wonder which take Binns'll like more."

Evette didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. By now, Angelina was tossing small toffees at Fred and cheering when he caught them in his mouth. Lara leaned over and tapped Angelina on the shoulder, finally getting her attention.

"I didn't know you were friends with them," she said, pointing towards the twins with her quill.

"Oh, yeah," Angelina said with an easy smile. Evette decided firmly that she did like Angelina. She just had a poor taste in friends, unfortunately. 

"What, are you friends with these two?" said Fred around his mouthful of toffee, pointing between Evette and Lara.

"Since when?" George asked.

"Since you guys left and since I wanted to get to know my roommates," Angelina replied curtly, sitting up on her knees. "What, do you guys know each other or something?"

And at the exact same time, Fred, George, Lara, and Evette all allowed their heads to loll back and said: " _Ugggggh._ "

❧

June 1990

"Sssh, you don't want them to hear you!"

"You're the one being loud!"

"I'm whispering!"

"Am not!"

Casting a glare at Lara to properly shut her up, Evette finished looping the thin wire at about shin-length in front of the closed door labeled _First Years_. She stood up and examined her handy work.

It had been Lara's idea, really. So far in their prank war, they'd been relying on magical means. But when it came down to ways to surprise the twins (and get in the least amount of trouble), the answer was so obvious that it had taken them nearly all school year to figure out.

It was very early in the morning. That afternoon, they were to get their exam results back; that evening was the end-of-term feast; in the morning, they'd be boarding the Hogwarts Express for home. 

The year had gone by so fast, it all hardly felt real. 

They'd pulled back from the prank war during exams, which apparently lured the twins into a false sense of security. The girls were determined to get the last laugh before they returned to the non-magical world for the summer, however.

The girls gently slapped palms, careful not to make too much noise. The sun would be rising soon, and with it the first year boys. They'd just have to wait eagerly downstairs for the loud clatter of two twins tripping over nothing on the landing.

"In case you were wondering, they have a slight fear of moths."

Lara gave a strangled sort of yelp that she tried to choke off as the girls spun around, not having heard any of the older boys descending the stairs. There on the landing was a very tall and rather burly red-haired boy in full Quidditch gear, looking to be about sixteen.

It was Charlie Weasley.

Evette opened and closed her mouth like a beached fish. There was no way to get out of this. There was nothing to say. He was a _prefect._ He would surely take away points, he would surely tell Professor McGonagall. They'd properly ruined things—and on the last day, too!

"You're those girls my brothers keep pranking, right?" Charlie asked, his voice low and soft.

Lara and Evette nodded slowly.

"They may seem fearless, but they're not. George doesn't like winged bugs. Fred doesn't like creepy-crawlies. And they're both grossed out by moths." He hefted his broomstick over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go get some practice in, but good luck."

And he patted Evette on the shoulder and brushed past them, heading down the stairs. Hardly daring to believe it, Evette and Lara swapped bewildered glances, squeezing each other's hands tightly. Not wanting to push their luck, they made themselves scarce.

When the twins came clumsily thudding down the stairs forty minutes later, it was all worth it.

All too soon, the entire school had filed down for the end-of-term feast. Evette sat between Lara and Angelina, still buzzing from the surprisingly high marks she'd received on her exams. The twins hadn't figured out what had caused the pileup in their doorway that morning, so the girls still had that leg up.

And there was more to come.

Dumbledore gave a lovely speech. Evette nearly teared up till she remembered she'd be back sooner than she expected. Just three quick months. Everyone began to dig into their food. George and Fred raised their goblets in a toast, and Lara and Evette seized their opportunity.

As the boys raised their cups, the pumpkin juice inside was pumpkin juice no longer. Instead, a flurry of moths fluttered forth from both their cups, bumping against the boys' faces in their haste to get out of their confines.

The twins cried out, dropping their cups and waving their hands wildly to clear the bugs away. What Gryffindors were in the area laughed rather hard; it was the first time someone had got them this good all year. 

Evette turned to look down the table. Charlie Weasley beamed rather proudly before subtly looking away and taking a long sip from his own, un-mothified goblet.

The feast and after-party were a blur. Evette stumbled into bed far too late. It felt like her head had barely hit the pillow when she was being roused awake by the other girls. She joined her roommates in lugging their trunks downstairs into the common room and gathering with the first year boys.

Together, the group tiredly made their way down to the front of the school. They would be taking the carriages to Hogsmeade station like the rest of the student body; they wouldn't sail back across in the boats till they graduated.

It seemed so far away.

Dawn climbed into a carriage with her older sister and two of the other Gryffindor boys. Alicia, Angelina, Fred, George, and Lee decided to take a carriage together too, but they had to wait for one big enough. 

Evette and Lara grouped up with Cedric Diggory and one of his Hufflepuff friends. As they prepared to climb into the carriage, the Weasley twins jogged up to them.

"This isn't over," Fred said.

"We'll still get you back," George added.

"Just because the year's done—"

"Doesn't mean the prank war is."

Evette smiled down at the twins from her seat above them. She didn't know when she'd fully realized it, but somewhere along the line, she had become aware that this prank war was just the beginning. Something kept pulling her towards those red-haired twins and vice versa. She didn't know what it meant for her or for them, but she knew that by sharing a house with them, her Hogwarts experience would be anything but dull.

"Well, I should hope not, boys. See you in September, then."


	3. year two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> three months feel like a lifetime.

**III**   
_Second Time's the Charm_

❈

September 1990

The Hogwarts Express belched smoke across Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Waving her hand to clear the air in front of her face, Evette half-hugged her little sister and kissed her mother on the cheek one last time before allowing her father and brother to help boost her luggage onto the train.

She hadn't spotted Lara yet, but she wasn't worried. The two girls had spent a weekend together in London and promised to meet in their old compartment should they miss each other on the platform.

Evette watched her parents and siblings disappear back through the barrier. Atlas had seemed tired, but she was just giddy he'd managed to come home long enough to see her off. His Ministry job as an Auror had him crossing the globe, rarely able to visit family or even send an owl saying he was alright. It was hard on Evette's parents, she knew, but they trusted Atlas.

The Express blared its horn. Checking the clock hung over the barrier, Evette noticed that they had less than five minutes till they'd be departing for Hogwarts. At the thought of returning to school, Evette's heart skipped an excited beat.

Her trunk in tow, she began to make her way down the corridor to find Lara. She passed several full compartments of older students setting up games of Gobstones and Exploding Snap, and one unmistakable group of first years bouncing around excitedly, waving their new wands and shouting nonsense. Evette smiled at the sight.

Just as she was nearing the compartment she'd shared with Lara, the inhabitants of the one neighboring it caught her attention.

Two matching red-haired, freckled faces of equal height and build; a shorter, dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks and a mischievous smile; a table covered in Dr. Filibuster Fireworks, some of which the boys were in the process dismantling.

Heat flashed underneath Evette's skin. Without thinking twice or knocking, she slid the compartment door open.

The boys jumped, their laughs freezing on their faces. George Weasley quickly leaned forward, shifting so that the large sleeve of his school robe easily covered the fireworks on the table. Lee Jordan rolled his eyes when he recognized Evette, but he was still smiling. He exchanged slightly exasperated glances with Fred Weasley.

"Alright, Ollivander?" Fred said casually.

"Ollivander-Wright," she corrected him quickly. Her chest felt weirdly compressed.

"We're never gonna call you that, it's really a mouthful," Fred deadpanned.

"Can we help you?" asked George, nudging his brother gently and tilting his head like a confused puppy dog.

"Yes, actually," Evette said stiffly. "We're older now—"

"By three months," interrupted Lee.

"—and I'm not going to tolerate any more of your childish pranking nonsense," Evette went on, ignoring Lee. "The first years will be looking up to us—"

"I highly doubt that," muttered Fred.

"—and the prefects and older students will be relying on us to make a good impression and set a good example, so all this to say, if I catch you putting a toe out of line, I'll be taking it straight to Professor McGonagall." Evette nodded curtly, raising her chin.

The boys stared at her, their smiles gone. Fred looked a little put out as he said, "Are you quite done?"

Her chin dropped by a fraction. "Er—yes, I suppose so." Starting to feel a little uncomfortable, she stepped back. Right at that moment, some fourth years were passing by, and she awkwardly had to stumble back into the compartment and wait for them to pass. Casting one last glance at the boys, who weren't even trying to hide the fireworks anymore, she exited the compartment, slid the door shut, and made quick work of finding Lara next door.

Lara was sitting with Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Dawn Derriweather. Evette had an easy time joining in with the laughter and gossip, doing her best to push the boys' disdainful stares out of her mind.

❧

October 1990

"Did you hear the news? Charlie just posted the new team roster!"

Evette's heart leaped into her throat. Quidditch tryouts had been last Friday. She'd thought she had done quite well, but the competition had been stiff. It was the first time she hadn't effortlessly come out on top, and her nerves had been shot all weekend.

Now Shane Hollis, a fifth year, had just come running from the boys' dormitory with a piece of paper in his hand that he was now pinning to the notice board in the common room. Feeling rather sick, Evette was slow to join the crowd of hopefuls gathering in front of it.

She wormed her way to the front, tuning out the excited chatter around her, and finally read the roster.

 _Thank you to everyone who tried out. It was a tough choice, and if I could take all of you, I would. But Slytherin needs to be stomped out! They've had our Cup for far too long!  
First practice is this Thursday at 5. Reserves need only come for the first half.  
_ _— Charlie Weasley, Captain_

 **Keeper**  
Oliver Wood  
 _alt. Jemma Robins_

 **Seeker**  
Charlie Weasley  
 _alt. Mara Goldwin_

 **Beaters**  
Fred Weasley  
George Weasley  
 _alts. Laurence Frye, Chester Winter_

 **Chasers**  
Angelina Johnson  
Shane Hollis  
Margaret Kattertop  
 _alts. Alicia Spinnet, Peter Prince, Evette Ollivander-Wright_

Evette felt like she'd been sucker-punched. She took several deep breaths, putting a great deal of effort into keeping her body language and expression neutral. She didn't even really care about Quidditch, it didn't matter... besides, three second years had made the team, it would have been silly if most of the team was made of students who hadn't hit puberty yet.

That's what she tried to convince herself, but it wasn't working.

"Oi oiii, Georgie, look who it is!"

_Oh, for fuck's sake._

Fred and George shouldered their ways to either side of Evette, scanning their eyes down the list. She watched as matching elated grins popped up on their features. At the same time, their heads turned to her, eyes alight.

"Didn't know there was a thing that little Evette wasn't top-notch at!" George said. "That's alright, I know you're my biggest fan."

Evette snorted, and to her relief, the pressure behind her eyes was lessening. "That's rich."

Fred slung his arm around her shoulder. He was about a head taller than her, but she'd grown a few inches over the summer, so at least the height difference wasn't as painful as it had been last year. "It's quite alright," Fred said loftily. "Quidditch is something only the most skilled can do well at."

"It takes a lot of practice," George agreed, smiling wickedly. "Years, some may say."

Evette stayed quiet, her eyes on the bottom trim of the wall in front of her. She knew what was coming. _Why_ had she been so determined to boast to the twins how good she was at her home games?

Fred drew back, a hand over his heart, his mouth open in an over-dramatic gasp. "What's that you say, Evie? You _do_ have years of practice?"

"But then how on earth could two _Cleansweep Fives_ such as ourselves beat you out for a spot on the team?" George said, scratching his head.

Fred shrugged, folding his arms. "I guess some people are just born with it, Georgie. No matter." He winked down at Evette. "We'll give you a front-row seat at our matches."

That pressure behind her eyes had returned. Evette had _never_ not been good at something she thought she was good at. Swallowing was difficult. Speaking around the gigantic lump in her throat— _I will not cry in front of the Weasley twins—_ she shoved Fred and snapped, "You beat me out of a spot because I wasn't trying to be a beater, you great git. Now, leave me alone before I take your beater's bat and send a bludger through your head."

She turned and pushed her way through the crowd, determined to reach the dormitory and close herself off from the world for a few hours. Fred shouted after her, "You always have such a way with words!" Wiping furiously at her cheeks, she ignored him.

But if she had turned around, or indeed, been paying attention before she stormed off, she would have noticed something. She would have noticed George noticing her. She would have seen the way he examined her face. George wasn't blind; he saw her swallow with great difficulty before shoving his brother, and he knew why.

As she stormed off, Fred made to grab after her and keep her there for a bit longer. George, however, "accidentally" knocked his brother's hand off track as he reached across towards Shane Hollis, who was passing around a form the team members had to fill out. 

George glanced after Evette once he'd properly distracted Fred with the paperwork, but she was nowhere to be seen. He furrowed his brow and bit his lip. Then he shook it off.

She'd be fine and back to hassling them in no time, he just knew it.

❧

October 1990

Second year was already more overwhelming than first, barely two months into term. One evening, after falling asleep studying for her Transfiguration quiz the following day, Evette awoke with a jolt to realize the common room was nearly completely empty.

She stirred quietly and turned to see what it was that had awoken her.

To her shock, Lara was sitting at a table with Fred and George. Evette's best friend was in the process of packing up her books into her school bag, but the twins still had most of their books, parchment, and quills laid out in front of them. They were evidently in the middle of a mild argument.

"You can't be serious!" Lara was saying. None of them seemed to have noticed Evette was awake and listening. "I was there, remember? I heard what Dumbledore said!"

"Dumbledore thinks we're funny," Fred insisted.

"Be that as it may, he said if he caught you going in the forest again—"

"So we'll just have to be careful not to get caught again."

" _George—_ "

"Hush up, would you?" Fred snapped. Evette closed her eyes, not wanting to interrupt merely by existing.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Lara said hotly, and Evette heard her stand up. "This time, make sure I'm not around when you come crawling out of the woods with some plant attached to you and sucking your brain out of your ear."

"Gross!" the twins chorused, but they sounded excited.

Lara marched past the sofa Evette was curled up on and Evette heard her best friend's steps retreat up the girls' dormitory staircase. Shifting slightly, Evette listened as the boys began to talk again.

"But won't everyone be around if we do it on the weekend?" That was George. "More eyes. We could get in bad trouble again."

"But if we get hurt—"

"Why are you planning on that?"

Fred sighed like he was frustrated. "It's a _fanged geranium,_ George. It's in the name. But if you're too scared, we don't have to do—"

"Don't pull that," whined George. "You know I'm just as brave as you are. You'd probably be dead without me by now."

Fred paused like he was skeptical. Feeling an awkward conversation was coming, Evette took the opportunity. She sat up quickly and got to her feet, turning to glare at the boys. Their eyes were wide, confirming neither had noticed she was still there.

"If you go into the woods again, I'll tell McGonagall, just like I promised," she said curtly, still stinging from the Quidditch comments a few weeks back.

The boys swapped looks, confused and a little worried. But then George looked away from Fred, turning his head and picking at a scuff mark on the edge of the table. Evette wanted to be angry that the twins were planning to lose Gryffindor more points, but at the sight of George's obviously hurt expression, something inside her softened against her better judgment.

She picked up her school bag and turned to follow Lara up the staircase. There was a tense silence behind her. She paused in the archway and turned, her hand on the doorframe.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure Professor Sprout grows fanged geranium in greenhouse four—that's a much safer route, wouldn't you say?"

❧

November 1990

_"Charlie Weasley's caught the snitch—GRYFFINDOR WINS!"_

It had taken a fair amount of persuasion from Lara and Angelina to convince Evette to go to the first Quidditch match of the season against Hufflepuff, but now she was elated she had agreed. She joined the stampede of elated Gryffindors sprinting back towards the common room to celebrate, carrying most of the Gryffindor team on their shoulders.

Maybe if she hadn't been so distracted, she would have noticed Fred and George slipping into the crowd of defeated Hufflepuffs trekking back towards their common room.

But Evette _was_ distracted, and joyfully so. She, Lara, Alicia, and Dawn helped boost Angelina up in the air, cheering for their dormmate. Alicia had taken the reserve position in great stride, determined to just do better next year. Evette found that inspiring, but she still couldn't help her bitterness.

Back in the common room, Charlie Weasely was placed on a table. He led several chants, properly getting the crowd worked up. Somewhere around the time Shane Hollis jumped up next to him, Evette found a pastry being passed into her hands.

She glanced up in confusion. Carter Smalls, a boy in her year, was doling out butterbeers, cakes, and treats to the crowd with a delighted expression. 

But where had he gotten them?

No one else much seemed to care as they joined Charlie in an aggressive, foot-stomping chant. But then Carter reached behind him to grab some more butterbeers and Evette saw the culprits. She really should have known.

Passing her pastry to Dawn, she slipped past Carter and sidled up to Fred. Carter insisted she take a small, white-frosted cake, and he wouldn't take no for an answer. She nudged the red-haired twin, drawing his attention away from some third year girls.

He grinned at her, which was a surprise. "Ah, our biggest fan!"

She couldn't help but smile; the energy in the crowd was infectious. Lee Jordan jumped up next to Shane and Charlie and hollered, "FOR THE CUP!" The crowd repeated this, chanting and pumping their fists.

"What's all this, then?" Evette asked, lifting the cake for him to see.

"Every good after-party needs snacks," Fred answered.

"You two don't strike me as the cooking type," she told him honestly.

"Looks are surprising," Fred said smoothly.

Lee jumped down from the table, pushing through the crowd to join his friends. 

"Even if you were, you didn't have time to whip this all up in the time it took you to get from the field to the tower," Evette said, her eyes following a still-steaming apple pie being carried by Alicia.

"Got us there," said Fred distractedly. "Butterbeer?"

"No, I want to know where you got—"

_"Bombarda Minima!"_

The cake in Evette's hands exploded in a small blast of yellow cake and white frosting. Lee Jordan, the caster, high fived Fred and reached deep into their bag of goodies, looking for a treat of his own.

Evette had been foolish to hope that this year she could rise above their childish prank war. As she embarrassedly wiped the frosting from her face, she made up her mind.

She'd get them back.

❧

November 1990

Evette sat in History of Magic with Lara and Angelina, her fingers crossed under the table. She'd tried out a rather tricky form of payback, and now she was nervous it wasn't going to pay off.

The twins and Lee ran in late, as usual. Professor Binns never cared enough to reprimand them or take points. He probably didn't even notice.

"What page are we on?" George hissed to Angelina, sitting on her other side and pulling out his textbook. Evette held her breath.

"Eighty-nine," she answered.

George flipped his book open, realizing too late that the inner contents were not the same as they once were. Evette had switched the covers without him noticing. As the front cover hit the desk, a loud, operatic woman's voice wailed out, "AAAAVEEE MAAARIAAAAA—"

George slammed the book shut, his face beet red. The whole class giggled. Professor Binns didn't notice. If he did, he didn't care. His voice droned on. "It was at this point in 1232 that...."

"What've you done to my textbook?" George hissed across Angelina to Evette.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Evette answered innocently.

George tried his best to ignore the song that played every time he accidentally nudged the book open. At the end of class—when no one was paying attention any longer—Professor Binns cracked and took five points from Gryffindor for George's disruptiveness. 

George was fuming as they filed out of class.

"You need to tell me how to fix this!" George shouted as Evette tried to slip away.

"You're the one whose supposed to be good at charmwork," she said.

George's face was turning pink again. As the other students passed, they would flick open the cover of the book in his hands so that "Ave Maria" would blare for second-long intervals through the empty corridor.

"Fine, I'll do it myself. Good luck at Quidditch practice—oh, never mind, Charlie doesn't enforce practice for the reserves. I _forgot."_

And he turned on his heel and marched after Fred and Lee, furiously shoving the serenading songbook back into his schoolbag. Evette had stopped laughing. The twins had stopped teasing her about Quidditch because they knew it bothered her, and yet....

"That was rude," said Lara, staring after the twins.

"Let's see how fun Quidditch practice is for them tonight, then," Evette sniffed, pulling out her wand.

"You can't hex them in the hall!" Lara said, panicked.

Evette blinked, looking at her friend. "You know I wouldn't. Come on, we're going to have to sneak into the boys' dormitory. I'm sure Moises will help us if we ask nicely."

And for whatever it was worth, Evette did find it incredibly satisfying to watch the actual Quidditch practice that evening. 

Fred and George just had the hardest time figuring out why their brooms seemed reluctant to fly higher than ten feet in the air.

❧

January 1991

Lara stayed with the Ollivander-Wrights for Christmas (Atlas was MIA again). They had a delightful time—so much so that Evette was genuinely a little reluctant to return to school. 

With the second term starting, it was time for all the second years to pick what electives they would be taking the following year. None of them were very essential to Evette; the only classes necessary for wandmaking were covered in the core classes. Lara wasn't sure what she wanted to do, so she just picked the same classes as Evette.

"I'd like to take Arithmancy or Study of Ancient Runes, too," Evette said thoughtfully over breakfast, examining the schedule she'd selected for next year. "Everyone says Arithmancy is really difficult, though, and I don't want to get overwhelmed... maybe I should sign up for Study of Ancient Runes and just drop if it's too much?"

"Don't do it," said Oliver Wood, dropping into the seat across from the girls. He had just come into the Great Hall with the rest of the Quidditch team. He was with Angelina and Margaret Kattertop—the only girls on the team, coincidentally.

"Why not?" Lara asked curiously.

Oliver Wood stuffed a breakfast roll in his mouth, shaking his head sagely. "I tried to take three electives third year, too, but it was far too much. I couldn't keep up with Quidditch."

"Besides, Professor Babbling makes it _so_ boring," Margaret said.

"Maybe not, then," Evette said with a weak smile. "But it's not like I'd have any extra-curriculars to worry about. _I_ don't have to worry about having a Quidditch schedule."

"But you might next year!" said Angelina firmly, gently nudging Evette's shoulder.

At that exact moment, the twins arrived in the Great Hall. They stood on either side of Evette, snooping at her schedule. Evette waited for them to tease her, but instead, their jaws dropped open.

"What?" she asked irritably.

Lara (who Fred had nudged out of the way rather rudely) stood up and swiped Fred's schedule out of his hand before giving a sharp laugh. "They've gone and picked the exact same electives as us!"

"No, they can't have!" Evette gasped, turning and snatching George's.

Sure enough—Lara and Evette would continue to be hassled by Fred and George in Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies next year, it seemed.

"Why are you taking Muggle Studies?" Fred asked Evette, his expression sour. He sat down on Lara's other side. "You're not going to be working with Muggles making wands."

"It's always good to know," Evette defended herself. 

"And you're Muggle-born!" Fred said, poking Lara's shoulder.

Lara shrugged. "I'm not exactly going to Muggle school, am I? If I'm gonna go back there after graduation, I want to know what's going on. Imagine how awkward it'd be if I showed up at my cousin's wedding and didn't know what to do!"

"Why are _you_ taking Muggle Studies?" countered Evette. "You don't strike me as the type to give up magic for a career."

George shrugged, too. "Our dad goes nuts over Muggle stuff—it was his favorite course at school. Besides, it'll be an easy O.W.L."

"Just as long as you don't have sit together," Angelina said. "The four of you in a Muggle Studies class? Professor Burbage'll lose all her hair!"

Fred obnoxiously pretended to vomit. With a lazy wave of her wand, Evette made his necktie come undone and stuff itself into his mouth.

❧

May 1990

Gryffindor did not win the Quidditch Cup that year.

Charlie Weasley was rather disappointed. It was his last year, after all, and the team had been quite good. But in the last game of the season, Slytherin absolutely annihilated Gryffindor.

Evette tried not to feel too smugly about it. After all, Angelina was her friend now, and Angelina had been positively gutted after the game. She hadn't come down for breakfast for two days afterward, and it was only when Dawn threatened to cast the tickling jinx on her that she got out of bed.

The one blessing from the horrific loss was that the twins had stopped teasing her about Quidditch—in fact, they'd stopped teasing her altogether.

During Herbology, one week after the fateful match, the second years were working on leaping toadstools with the Slytherins. It was quite a painful class. 

They had split into pairs and were meant to gather the leaping toadstools into a faerie ring. But as the name suggests, the toadstools weren't very keen towards being planted. They hopped out of reach, bounced off of students' noses, and planted a few black eyes in very unlucky circumstances.

Lara was actually quite good at Herbology, even if she didn't like to get her hands dirty, so Evette and Lara had a rather easy time getting the toadstools to cooperate. Lara even had one doing flips in the palm of her hand. Evette quickly realized that the toadstools reacted most strongly to loud noises and fast movements.

Feeling a bit mischievous, Evette planned to spook the twins, who were struggling immensely to wrangle their toadstools. She pulled out her wand, planning to just startle their toadstools and send them scattering.

Then George sat down hard, a toadstool in each hand, and Evette paused.

He looked tired and weary and more than anything else, sad. She'd known the twins were bothered by their Quidditch defeat, but she'd never seen either of them so down. She looked towards Fred, who was elbow deep in his planter, brows knit. He seemed to be taking out his frustration on the poor toadstools.

As Evette watched, Miles Bletchley from Slytherin "accidentally" brushed past the twins with his planter of perfectly potted leaping toadstools, walking slow enough that they got a good look at it. His partner, Adrian Pucey, sneered, "Good game last week, Weasels!"

Evette half expected Fred to hit Pucey. Instead, he just turned his head sharply down so Pucey couldn't see any kind of reaction.

Not knowing what came over her, Evette drew her wand and murmured " _Expulso!_ " 

The soil in Pucey and Bletchley's planter erupted, sending their toadstools every which way. They cried out, desperately trying to clear their eyes of dirt, and dropped their planter. It cracked in two. The whole class was laughing at their misfortune. They looked like they'd just been unburied, mud and dirt plastered all across their fronts. Evette subtly slipped her wand back into her pocket.

"Oh, dear—come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'll deal with you chaps in a few moments!" said Professor Sprout sternly, escorting the boys out of the greenhouse. Pucey was spitting mud out of his mouth.

As the Gryffindors cheered, Evette caught George's eyes. He hadn't budged from his seat on the ground, but he was smiling.

Feeling rather better now, Evette turned around to finish tidying up their work area. She had an oddly difficult time shaking the grin off her face.

❧

June 1990

"Boys, boys, please!"

Fred looked up from where he had George in a headlock. "What's up, Professor?"

Professor Flitwick waved his wand and the boys zipped apart from one another. Fred landed next to Lee and Moises; George landed between Evette and Lara, much to their disgruntlement. The second years gathered outside Flitwick's for their Charms final all laughed, but it ended quickly. Everyone was too nervous to be much amused.

With another wave of his wand, Flitwick's classroom door opened, but he waved back two Ravenclaws from entering.

"Well done on the written portion. Now we're moving on to the practical section," Flitwick announced. "I'll call up pairs to show me what you've learned this year. After you've finished with your practical, you and your partner are free to go." He pointed at the Ravenclaws. "You two first." Before he walked after them, he pointed at Fred and George. "If you two move, I'll be giving you both zeroes."

Fred pulled a face and George sighed heavily, but they didn't budge.

The second years loitered in the hall, feeling a bit awkward. Each practical took less than five minutes, but it felt a bit silly to just stand around. Fred went in with Lee, and Flitwick practically kicked them out of the corridor after. George seemed a bit uncomfortable without his friends.

Sadly, all of Evette and Lara's practice together had been for naught; Flitwick called Lara in with Dawn, leaving Evette standing between George and Carter.

Finally, Professor Flitwick stepped out of the classroom after Angelina and Alicia left, chatting excitedly, and pointed at George. "Weasley and Ollivander-Wright, come on in, then."

"What?" Evette muttered under her breath, but she stepped forward.

"My thoughts exactly," George mumbled back, holding the door open for her to pass through.

They stood there together, obviously both a bit uncomfortable. Flitwick climbed up onto his desk at the front of the classroom and beckoned the two forward. They weren't used to being down on the floor, in front of the desks. 

Evette looked around, waiting for Flitwick to speak. He was currently in the process of pulling out some props. Had the ceiling always been so high?

Finally, Flitwick placed a teapot on the floor in front of the two. "Show me what you can do," he said simply.

"Er— _engorgio,_ " said George quickly, waving his wand.

The teapot grew to three times its original size.

" _Reducio,_ " Evette countered, and the pot shrank back down again.

George eyed her strangely. " _Tarantallegra,_ " he said, and the teapot began to dance around. Flitwick applauded.

" _Finite incantatum,_ " Evette said back, and the teapot stilled.

_Why on earth are we in pairs for this?_

They went on like that. Evette grew frustrated that she was often the one simply performing counter-spells to George's charms. A few minutes in, Flitwick waved his hands to get them to stop.

"Show me what you can do _together,"_ he emphasized.

She and George once again exchanged confused looks. He took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself, and said, "Take it away, Ollivander."

"It's Ollivander-Wright."

To her surprise, he smiled and dipped his head a bit. "Take it away, Ollie."

Evette wasn't sure how to react. Her ears felt warm. Choosing instead to focus on the task at hand, she waved her wand and said, " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The teapot began to float into the air. George hit it with the color-changing charm so the porcelain took on a pleasant blue tint. Evette waved over some teacups. George filled the pot with water and Evette heated it. They poured it into the floating teacups before having each cup explode in a harmless burst of rainbow sparks. They vanished the water in the pot and placed it back on the ground.

It had all come so naturally that by the end, it had hardly felt like they were taking an exam. Evette lowered her wand, feeling a bit tired. Flitwick instantly began to applaud.

"Well done, you two, well done! I have no doubts that you were paying excellent attention to class this year! Mr. Weasley, I am most pleasantly surprised."

George rubbed the back of his neck. Evette smiled, confused. 'Shy' was not a word she'd typically use for either of the Weasley twins.

"Full marks to the both of you for the practical! Let me just clean up and you'll both be dismissed."

As Flitwick bent to return the teapot to his pile of props, George turned to face Evette. He looked most pleased with himself. Evette was pretty content with the results, too. While Flitwick wasn't the harshest professor, it was still a confidence boost to receive full marks on a practical exam. 

George stuck his wand into his pocket, stretching his arms above his head. "Nice job there, Ollie," he said. Apparently the nickname was going to stick—probably since she didn't bother correcting him on it. "It was a bit of an odd beginning, but we make a rather good team, wouldn't you say?" He nudged her in an almost friendly manner.

In that moment, Evette worried her face was as red as his hair.


	4. year three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry potter arrives at hogwarts, and evette gets the tiniest bit cooler.

**IV**   
_The Arrival of a Hero_

❈

September 1991

"Everywhere else is full—we might as well." 

If first-year-Evette Ollivander-Wright had seen current-Evette Ollivander-Wright and heard her saying that, she might have dropped dead from the shock of it.

Over the summer between her second and third years, Evette had started to look much less like a child and much more like a teenager. Her hair was getting longer, and she'd learned how to style it so she didn't just pin it back every day. She'd grown another inch or two, and her mum said she didn't have many left before she was fully grown. Her face had narrowed a bit.

And most surprising of all, she had just suggested that she and her best friend, Lara Crumb, share a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Fred and George Weasley.

Lara wasn't immune to the effects of puberty, either. She was taller than Evette now (which Evette found slightly infuriating) and slimmer, too. Before, the word that came to mind to describe Lara was "owlish," but over the summer she had certainly grown into her face. 

Evette had caught some boys in their year giving Lara a double-take on the platform. She would be shocked if Lara hadn't found a boyfriend of some sort by the end of the year.

Lara nodded, obviously just wanting to set her trunk and owl cage down, so Evette rapped gently on the glass door of the compartment. Within, Lee Jordan quickly stood up and pulled it open.

"Alright, Evette?" he asked.

"Can we sit here? Everywhere else is a zoo," Evette asked.

"Miles Bletchley nearly knocked me off the train!" Lara piped up from behind Evette.

"How unfortunate that he failed," Lee said with a teasing smile, stepping out of the way so the girls could awkwardly shuffle in.

"How were your summers?" asked George Weasley, helping Lara lift her trunk and owl cage onto the overhead rack.

"Boring, honestly," Lara huffed in reply. "I went over to Evie's for a bit, but nothing else happened."

"And yours?" Evette asked, sitting down as Fred finished adjusting the luggage rack. She tucked her legs up under her on the seat.

"Same old," sighed Fred tiredly, sitting back across from Evette. Suddenly he sat up like he'd been electrocuted, his eyes bright. "Lee, show them what you've got!"

Smiling mischievously, Lee lifted the shoebox that had been sitting beside him. Evette hadn't even noticed it was there at first. Craning her neck curiously, but hesitant to get too close, she watched as Lee lifted the lid the slightest bit.

Fast as lightning, a long, hairy leg slithered out and Lee snapped the lid shut again. Evette and Lara gave little screams and Fred and George started laughing excitedly—even though Fred had literally just said they'd already seen it.

"What is that?" Evette asked, her grip tight on Lara's sleeve.

"Giant tarantula," Lee said simply, tucking the box back next to his hip.

"Well _that_ isn't allowed," sniffed Lara. The twins looked at Evette, and only when she barked out a laugh at Lara's comment did they allow themselves to chuckle.

As the boys silently debated whether or not to pull out the fireworks they typically spent their train rides de- and re-constructing, they were all thinking the same thing: _Evette's different this year already. But is she different enough?_

Not that Evette could read minds, of course. But it almost seemed like she could when she tore her gaze from the greenery rolling by outside and said, "So when are you gonna pull the fireworks out?"

George paled a bit. "Wh-what?"

Evette rolled her eyes, smiling a bit. "You _always_ have fireworks on the train. I wanted to try my hand at wrapping some."

Fred and George looked at each other, eyes wide, for a moment before getting up and starting to root through their trunks. Lara pulled out two licorice wands and gave one to Evette.

As they waited for the boys to set up their firework-constructing-station, Evette stared out the door of the compartment. There was something hypnotic about the window on that side of the train. It was smaller than the one in their compartment, so she would just catch glimpses of greenery and towns they passed.

As she watched, a bushy-haired girl strode purposefully past. She was small—very clearly a first year. Behind her, much less confidently, walked a pudgy brown-haired boy with his head down. Evette smiled to herself.

_I'm so grateful to not be a first year anymore._

"Alright, pay attention, Ollie."

Evette jumped at the nickname. She hadn't heard it since the year before, when George first gave it to her. It made her feel a bit warm, but in a good way. Smiling, she scooted closer to the table. 

Fred had already dismantled a couple of fireworks and he was working on a third. George held up the pieces, making sure she saw them. "Alright, these are the important bits. We don't use that there—it's essentially a silencer. Where's the fun in that?" He paused as if waiting for her to reprimand him. When she stayed quiet, he rushed on, "You just take these colorful bits, squeeze them together at the base there, and—right, start twisting. You're a natural," he finished appraisingly.

Evette lifted her head to shoot him a crooked smile before returning to her task. She wasn't actually planning on setting any off—she had her heart set on that shiny fifth-year prefect badge. But what was the harm in learning how they worked?

After a while, Fred lit off a small firework and tossed the spark up in the air, making a game of catching it as he reclined on the seat by his brother. "Oi, guess who we met earlier?" he said suddenly.

"Who?" Lara asked interestedly. She had yesterday's edition of _The Daily Prophet_ open on her lap.

"Harry Potter."

_"Really?"_

❧

The Sorting Ceremony 1991

Here's the thing about Harry Potter. Back when Evette was still in nappies, this really bad guy named Lord Voldemort was trying to wipe out all Muggle-borns and enforce blood supremacy again. It was a rather dark time. But this little baby named Harry Potter somehow stopped him in his tracks, and Voldemort hasn't been seen since.

And now Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived—has come to Hogwarts.

Evette was just as interested as the rest of the Gryffindors when McGonagall called out "Potter, Harry!" She was sat between Lara and Angelina, across from Fred and George. A few seats down, Percy Weasley had an expression of great interest.

Harry was a small boy—scrawny, a bit knobby-kneed, and swimming in his robes. His hair stuck up every which way, and even from here, Evette could see the tape on the bridge of his glasses. He screwed his bright green eyes tight shut as the hat dropped onto his head.

She felt a bit guilty about it, but she couldn't help but think that he was a rather underwhelming specimen to be the one who stopped the Dark Lord.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table in particular exploded into applause. Percy made a point to shake Harry's hand and Fred and George stood up, stomping their feet and shouting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

Their little brother went to Gryffindor too, but in all honesty, no one seemed to care that much.

❧

October 1991

Evette and Alicia tried out for the Quidditch team again. This time, Alicia actually made the official roster. Evette did not. She was a reserve, _again._

She didn't let it bother her the way it had last year. She'd just have to try harder till she got it.

She sat back in the common room one afternoon, laughing as Angelina tried to teach Moises Jacobsen a funny sort of two-step in front of the fire. Evette was sitting on the floor, resting her back against the sofa that the twins were hogging. When their laughter stilled, she turned to look over her shoulder.

Oliver Wood had come up behind them, his knuckles white against the back of the sofa. The twins leaned their heads in as he said in a stage whisper, "I've found us a Seeker! That Harry Potter is brilliant on a broomstick!"

"Harry Potter's our new Seeker?" the twins chorused delightedly.

"Only don't go spreading around," Oliver added, wincing a bit.

"That's great news, Oliver!" Evette said, beaming up at him.

Groaning softly, Oliver just managed to nod curtly before turning and leaving. Out of the whole team, Oliver had been the most gutted over their defeat last year. It only made sense that he'd be the one to take over the Captaincy once Charlie had graduated.

With Oliver gone, the twins dropped onto their knees beside Evette in perfect sync, matching grins on their faces.

"How's it feel, Ollie? Be honest," said Fred.

"An ickle firstie! Seeker without tryouts!" George added.

"I'm not arsed," Evette said, smoothing out the edition of _The Quibbler_ she'd had open on her lap. "Our team is still rubbish."

Fred nudged her shoulder with his own. "You're just saying that because we're on it."

"Yes, I am," she said seriously.

"Don't bottle it up," George said, his face solemn. "If you ever need to talk, we're here for you."

Evette rolled her eyes, determined not to let them think their words had gotten to her. "I'm honestly doubtful anything can stop our losing streak at this rate, but if anything will, I suppose it would be the Boy Who Lived."

"Too right!" Fred agreed eagerly, mistaking her pessimism for acceptance. "It's more than a stroke of luck—it's a stroke of real magic!"

She smiled dryly at his bad pun, another thought occurring to her. "It's against the rules is what it is."

George screwed up his face, waving his arms wildly as he gave her two forceful thumbs-down. "Booo!" he called, gathering the attention of most of the other students gathered around the fire with them in the common room. "Booo, Ollie, boooo! Everyone, please boo Evette—boooo!"

Rolling her eyes, Evette couldn't help but laugh. Lara plopped down in front of her, blowing a raspberry. The twins leaned closer to her, their boos more passionate. She slunk down, placing the open _Quibbler_ over her head to act as a shield from their teasing.

❧

December 1991

Atlas hadn't come home that summer. His dangerous job was beginning to take its toll on her parents' marriage. Most evenings over the summer, Evette had fallen asleep to their arguments over the topic. Things were so tense that the opportunity had never arisen to ask her parents to sign her Hogsmeade form.

So she stood on the steps of the castle during the first real snow of the winter, able to do little else but wave Lara, Angelina, Alicia, and Dawn goodbye instead. It wasn't all bad—Carter Smalls hadn't gotten his slip signed, either. His mother was apparently very strict.

It became normal for Evette and Carter to spend the Hogsmeade weekends in the Hogwarts courtyard together, making snowmen and then bewitching them to dance or having snowball fights with third years from the other houses. Roxanna Dawes from Hufflepuff and Anaya Gray from Slytherin made for particularly fun competitors.

She decided to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, too nervous to go home and see whether her parents had gotten better or worse with her being gone as well as Atlas. If he'd just send a letter....

_THWACK!_

Evette was brought rather violently back to the present when a snowball shattered against her shoulder. Caught unawares, she toppled backward, falling behind the fort she and Carter had constructed.

"Alright, Evie?" asked Cedric Diggory with an excited smile from beside her.

"Serves me right for spacing out," Evette answered, gladly accepting his helping hand up. She stayed crouched down, observing the playing field.

The teams were as follows: Evette, Cedric, Carter, Roxanna, and Anaya versus Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, and Moises Jacobsen. The twins and the others had come back early from Hogsmeade and inserted themselves in the already existing game being played. Now all hell had broken loose, it seemed.

"Look out!" Lee shouted as Anaya threw a particularly fierce snowball. Angelina raised a shield charm just in time.

"That's cheating!" booed Carter. He was quite a striking figure in the snow. He liked to wear dark blues and greys outside of his school attire; combined with his dark, ebony-like skin, he looked like a raven flying in front of a cloud. He cranked back a snowball and let fly. It struck true, and poor Moises went down.

Moises had grown just like the rest of them, but he was still very much the mousy boy Evette first saw in the boat behind the twins. He just seemed to stretch out taller, he never seemed to get wider. His head seemed a bit too big for his body, and his blue-green eyes were big and owlish.

Roxanna was a ways back from the action behind the fort wall, making snowballs fast as she could. Evette crawled back over to her, shot her a wink, and scooped up an armful before crawling back over.

"The final assault, eh?" Cedric asked with a charming smile. Evette's heart skipped a beat and she reflexively scowled. Cedric was one of the first boys in their year to start "growing up," so to speak, and Evette knew she wasn't the only girl to have taken notice. She just wished the heat in her cheeks wouldn't take notice _every_ time he smiled at her like that.

She popped up, prepared to begin her onslaught of snowballs, but she didn't see the other fort. She frowned. Why did she just see white—?

_WHAM!_

"Oh, Merlin—sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"Nice going, Georgie!"

"Merlin's beard—is she okay?"

"Alright, Evette? Can you hear me?"

Someone was patting her cheek. Evette managed to blink open her eyes and her vision was filled by the blurry face of Cedric Diggory. Ugh. He was really handsome.

"'m fine," she mumbled, trying to sit up. "What happened—ow...."

Talking hurt. Okay. Weird. She managed to roll upright till she was sitting in the snow, Cedric's hand against her shoulder blade. Anaya and Carter were crouched next to her, too. Roxanna was still back by the snowballs, but she was watching closely.

She lifted a hand to her mouth as the Weasley twins came jogging over. George looked properly stressed, but Fred was struggling to hide his smile.

Evette's fingertips came away bloody.

"You did this?" she asked, pointing at George.

He winced. "Guilty. Do you need Madam Pomfrey?"

"It's just a snowball," Fred protested. "Evie's tough, she'll be fine."

"You'll have a fat lip for sure," Cedric told her.

Evette groaned. "Great. There go my porcelain good looks."

The boys had the decency to chuckle at her joke. George just looked relieved that she wasn't crying. Anaya leaned closer, examining the bloody lip. "I think it makes her look tough," she finally decided.

"Thanks, Anaya," Evette mumbled. "I think I'll referee the rest of the game."

Cedric and Carter helped her over to the steps of the castle. She cheered with the rest of the team when Anaya finally struck George in retribution, pointing towards Evette and shouting, "That was for you!"

When Evette woke up Christmas morning, she did have a rather fat lip. But she also had an extra Christmas present—a small, rather shoddily wrapped rectangular box simply marked "from George." When she opened it, a writing quill fell into her lap with a small note attached.

_It's a spell-check quill. Sorry about your lip._

It would have been altogether a very kind gesture, if not for the fact that it liked to replace random words with swear words that definitely would have landed her in detention had she turned in her Potions essay without double-checking.

❧

January 1992

When Lara came home in the new year, she wasted little time in telling Evette all about the cute Muggle boy that she had gone to primary school with and how they spent all the holidays together. Finally, on Christmas Eve, he had kissed her.

It sounded utterly magical: twinkling fairy lights, Christmas music oozing from the family record player, a sprig of mistletoe hanging over the kitchen sink. When Evette asked if he was her boyfriend now, Lara just giggled in response and said she was excited to see him over summer.

Evette was happy for her, truly. She just felt a little different and separated from her best friend now. It didn't help that while Lara was talking, Evette had a very clear view of Cedric Diggory at the neighboring Hufflepuff table.

He laughed at something Roxanna said, still managing to look attractive as he cupped his hand over his mouth, struggling not to spill pumpkin juice. Between Lara's rapid-fire storytelling and the way Cedric was running his fingers through his hair, it took three times for Evette to hear Fred asking her to pass the butter.

"Oh, sorry," she said distractedly.

George and Fred exchanged glances, shaking their heads disbelievingly. 

❧

March 1992

"YES! HE'S DONE IT! Harry Potter's caught the Golden Snitch—and in record time, too! That's one hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor and the end of the game. GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

It was absolute bedlam. No one could remember the Snitch being caught so fast. Evette felt like she'd barely gotten to her seat. Looking around, she spotted some Hufflepuffs who hadn't even managed that, crossly standing up again and turning to leave.

Suddenly a scarlet robe had zipped in front of Evette and she was face-to-face with George Weasley, hovering on his Cleansweep in front of the stands. She managed to wipe her excited expression and fold her arms. "Can I help you, Weasley?"

He smiled roguishly at her. "Still think nothing can break our losing streak, Ollie?"

"It was one game," she huffed.

He held up a peace sign. "Actually, this is the second he's won, if you missed that. And this was less than five minutes. He's quite literally breaking records."

She rolled her eyes, but Lara's ecstatic jumping beside her made it impossible to keep from smiling. She turned, saying over her shoulder, "We'll go down to the pitch. See you in a few."

"Don't be ridiculous, that'll take ages."

Before she knew what was happening, George was helping her step over the banister, despite the fact that they were nearly fifty feet in the air. Professor Sprout, who was nearby, was protesting weakly, but she couldn't get through the crowd to stop them.

Evette had no choice but to grip tightly to George's shoulders as he rocketed down towards the pitch, her sat close behind him on the broom.

And as soon as it had happened, it was done. She joined the rest of the team in boosting Harry up in the air and missed the way George's eyes sparkled a little extra brightly.

❧

April 1992

Evette had never been to a birthday party during the term. Her own birthday was in May, which was tragically close to exams, so her roommates tended to just get her little gifts, give her a quick hug, and call it that. She could expect a few extra letters at breakfast, but no real fuss.

The Weasley twins, however—they knew how to celebrate their birthday.

Sitting in the grass on the Quidditch pitch, Evette cheered with the other third year Gryffindors as Fred set off another bout of fireworks. Angelina and Alicia were standing, and they whooped loudly, jumping on the balls of their feet.

Fred came jogging back, tilting his head up to examine his handiwork. They'd modified their Filibuster fireworks—with a little help from Evette and Lee—to make more exciting shapes. A crude dragon was currently swooping through the air, and with a multi-colored _BANG_ it fizzled out in a gorgeous fireball. 

They cheered once more.

"I'm gonna get another butterbeer," Lara told Evette, patting her knee and standing up. She toddled over to the box the twins had smuggled in from Hogsmeade last weekend, though how they got away with it, Evette had no clue.

"Enjoying the show?" asked another voice.

George and Lee plopped down on her other side. Even if Lee wasn't related to them, he certainly had the same smile they did.

Evette ran her hand through her hair, clearing it out of her face. "I had my misgivings about setting off fireworks at midnight, but I must say—yes, I am enjoying the show."

"It's good, right?" George said excitedly. "We haven't done it this big before. First year, Charlie was down here practicing, so he kicked us out. Last year, we just had Angelina and Alicia up in the dormitory, but Percy saw them coming out of our room and was furious."

"And now you've got everybody," said Evette.

"Hardly," snorted Lee. "When you turn seventeen it'll be insane."

"I've barely been fourteen for half an hour and you're already planning three years ahead?" George said, dramatically gasping and placing a hand over his heart. He pulled Lee into a gentle headlock. "What'd I do to deserve you, Lee?"

"Aw, gerroff!" Lee succeeded in disengaging himself from George's arm and got to his feet, brushing off his robes and jogging towards Fred, who was rooting through their firework stash with Carter.

"Don't you have something to drink?" George asked, noticing Evette's empty hands. "Or are you just that enamored with the display?"

Evette shrugged, not really having an answer.

He tipped his open butterbeer towards her. She hesitated, looking him in the eye. He scoffed faintly, took a long swig, and said, "Honestly, I haven't _poisoned_ it!"

Laughing, she took the bottle and allowed herself a large gulp before passing it back to him.

"Happy birthday, Weasley."

❧

May 1992

Unfortunately, the end of the school year took a rather unpleasant turn when Harry Potter and his little friends lost Gryffindor one hundred and fifty House points all in one go. Gryffindor had been doing quite good for the first time in years—between the success of the Quidditch team and the Weasley twins better hiding their pranks from the teachers, Gryffindor and Slytherin had been neck-in-neck nearly all year.

At first, Evette thought there'd been a mistake. Lara was pulling her into the Great Hall for breakfast, saying something about jam and toast, when Evette's eyes fell on the House hourglasses. 

She stopped. Her hand slipped out of Lara's. Her friend came back around her to her side, and when she saw what Evette was looking at, she gasped a little. Her mouth came up to cover her mouth, her eyes big and confused and hurt.

Other Gryffindors were milling around, looking at the glasses, too. No one seemed able to believe it.

"What happened?" Moises asked, his voice dull—just last week, he'd embarrassed himself in Charms in order to earn twenty points.

"Apparently it was Harry," said Carter from beside him. Normally very cool and collected, even he looked annoyed.

"Potter?" Lara asked in a very small voice.

"I overheard the twins," Carter said. "You know how their baby brother's friends with him? They went out last night and got caught."

The rumor spread quickly—three stupid first years had lost Gryffindor the best shot they'd had at winning the House Cup in nearly seven years. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were annoyed. Everyone just wanted to see Slytherin beat for once, but now it'd have to wait another year.

The twins just seemed tired whenever someone asked them about it. They'd quietly defend their brother, but Evette could tell their hearts weren't truly in it.

"We all make mistakes," Fred'd mutter, shooting a sideways glare towards Ron.

"We've lost loads of points and you're still friends with us, right?" George would say, shaking his head when Ron asked if he and his friends could sit with them.

"They're just kids," the twins would say together, dejectedly picking up their books and going to bed three hours early.

❧

June 1992

Thankfully, Evette didn't have to wallow in her anger for many more weeks. Soon enough, Harry Potter had battled You-Know-Who in the bowels of the castle (as you do), where apparently the Dark Lord was revealed to have been parading around as Professor Quirrell this whole time (Evette had always thought he was an awful teacher), and Harry'd won back more than his fair share of house points (though how that little Weasley got fifty points for playing an exciting game of chess, Evette still didn't understand).

It was truly a magical moment to hear Dumbledore say, "To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." More magical still was Dawn Derriweather's whispered response of, "What the _fuck_ is going on?"

Evette hadn't had such a good end-of-term feast. Truthfully, she hadn't had such a good school year, full stop. She liked to blame it on growing up. There wasn't any other reason she could think of that made this year any different from the last.

All too soon, her trunk was packed and she was in a carriage with the Gryffindor girls, trundling back towards Hogsmeade station. She had the brief sparkle of hope that maybe next year, she'd be able to join them in the village.

She hung out the window and watched the castle retreat in the distance. It felt slightly more painful to be leaving this go round. Maybe it was Harry Potter's presence in the castle, but it definitely felt like things had shifted.

She was both impatient and nervous to go back the next year.

They boarded the Express and found a compartment together. Evette pressed her cheek to the window, watching Hogwarts shrink in the distance. When the last turrets disappeared from view, she dropped into her seat and took in the sight of her friends, her heart feeling so full that it hurt.

Angelina and Alicia were flipping through a scrapbook they'd made throughout the year, celebrating their time on the Quidditch team. It was full of moving pictures of them on the pitch, in the changing rooms, and sitting during practice.

Lara had her feet up on the table, sitting across from Evette, and a copy of the _Prophet_ open wide in front of her so Evette could just barely see the top of her head.

Next to Evette, Dawn was sketching something in a notebook. It looked like a drawing, but Evette didn't feel like craning her neck too much to get any more details. It was quiet; peaceful, even. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was the calm before the storm.

Belatedly, she realized that the empty spots on the seats were littered with chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, licorice wands, and empty wrappers.

"Did I miss the trolley witch?" Evette asked bluntly, breaking the silence.

Alicia lifted her head. "Just barely. She's probably only a few doors down."

Pocketing a few galleons, Evette slid their compartment door open and glanced around. Luckily, she easily spotted who she was looking for, just a few meters down the corridor. She was in the process of handing some Bertie Bott's Beans to Lee Jordan.

Evette easily skipped over to her. "Just a couple chocolate cauldrons, please," she said, exchanging the money in return for the sweets. They were Atlas's favorite; hopefully, if he made it home that summer, she'd have a gift for him.

As the trolley witch trundled off, Evette glanced into the compartment beside her. Lee, Fred, George, and Carter waved at her. Biting the bullet, Evette slid their door open.

"Come to join us again?" Fred asked with a friendly smile.

"We're just getting the fireworks out," George added.

"No, I haven't, actually," said Evette quickly. "I just wanted to say—you guys lightened it up this year. But just because we shared a few laughs doesn't mean we're friends. If I catch you stepping out of line, I won't hesitate to turn you in. The rivalry isn't over. Got it?"

There was a stunned silence following her statement. And then to her surprise, all four boys started to laugh. She blinked, taken aback.

George got to his feet, stepping forward till he was standing so close that she stumbled out of the compartment and back into the corridor. His nose was just centimeters from her own.

"Whatever you say, Ollie," he said quietly, a faint smile on his face.

He slid the door shut, and she couldn't hear them anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the kind comments and kudos on the story so far!! i wasn't really expecting this to story to get any real attention, and i appreciate every single on of you guys, and i hope you enjoy seeing where this story unfolds as much as i enjoy writing it. love you guys <3 leave your thoughts!!


	5. year four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evette has finally accepted the twins' friendship. But perhaps in her stubborn resistance, she fooled herself into thinking she didn't care what they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a long one! your kudos and support and comments mean the world to me, thanks to every single one of you reading this!
> 
> ok, go on an enjoy the chapter.

**V**   
_Boys Begin to Notice Girls (and Vice Versa)_

❈

August 1992

Nothing particularly interesting happened that summer. Atlas sent an owl home just to say he was safe and laying low in Brazil, but it did little to calm Evette's parents. Lara came to stay for the last few weeks. Mr. and Mrs. Ollivander-Wright put on cheery faces for Lara, but they were so distressed by Atlas's extended absence and their own faltering relationship that Evette still failed to get her Hogsmeade slip signed.

Lara was incredibly disappointed by this. Evette replied with, "Imagine how I feel."

On the last weekend before term started, Mr. Wright drove the girls into London to go back-to-school shopping in Diagon Alley.

"So, who exactly is this Lockhart fellow again?" Mr. Wright asked.

"Ugh," Evette answered, staring at her book list for the coming year.

"I don't know either," Lara said, leading the way through the crowd. She passed Dawn Derriweather coming out of Fortescue's Ice Cream with Lydia Yale from Hufflepuff and waved excitedly.

"He's like..." Evette struggled to find the words to describe Gilderoy Lockhart. "He's like Tom Cruise, but blonde and worse," she ultimately decided, using a rather lame anecdote for the sake of her Muggle father and Muggle-born best friend.

"Oh, is he cool, then?" asked Mr. Wright.

"Decidedly not," Evette said distractedly, having just caught sight of the crowd gathering outside Flourish & Blotts. "Look, there he is!"

_"Ooooh—hi, Fred, hi, George!"_

Evette stumbled at the sound of Lara greeting another pair of boys in their year. She tore her gaze from the crowd pushing to get a view of Lockhart and looked back in the direction Lara was facing.

Sure enough, Fred and George were standing there, Hogwarts cloaks clasped over jumpers and jeans. As usual, they were in matching blue jumpers, Fred's with a yellow _F_ and George's with a yellow _G._

They'd grown maybe an inch or two over the summer, but so had Evette. They still were more than a head taller than Evette, and she had the sudden realization that that height difference would likely only get more severe in the coming years.

Their red hair was grown out a bit so it hung in their eyes. When Lara called out and they instinctually lifted their heads, they had to shake their heads to see her properly. Clasped in their hands, they both held big, bright, colorful boxes.

Right behind them, Lee Jordan came marching out of Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. Of course. Getting their yearly stock of fireworks to experiment with.

The twins broke into matching smiles and crossed the busy street with Lee in tow, stopping in front of the girls.

"Good morrow, ladies!" Fred said brightly.

"Fancy meeting you here," George added. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Same as you, I expect," Evette said, holding up her Hogwarts letter. 

Fred looked past Evette and his eyes began to sparkle. "Oh, but don't tell me—this must be the famous Mr. Ollivander-Wright! Pleasure to finally meet you, sir!"

To Evette's horror, the twins and Lee all shook her father's hand rather eagerly as he said, "Just Wright, I'm afraid. She gets the Ollivander from her mother. Are you Evie's friends from school?"

Fred opened his mouth to answer—probably something that would embarrass her terribly—but Evette stepped in between them, saying quickly, "They're in Gryffindor with me and Lara, Dad. That's Fred, that's George, and that's Lee. Don't worry if you can't tell them apart, no one can." She changed the topic fast as she possibly could. "Have you seen the reading lists? Who would assign so much Lockhart?"

"Lockhart himself, I'd expect," said George, watching three students pass them on the street: it was Harry, Ron, and Hermione, walking towards Flourish & Blotts. They easily slipped through the crowd and disappeared inside.

Evette's eyes widened. "Really? Lockhart, a professor? Imagine that all year!"

The twins rolled their eyes, much to Evette's satisfaction. Lara folded her arms and cocked her hip. "You still haven't told me what exactly is so awful about him. He seems nice."

"Nice to look at, maybe," Fred said grimly. 

"At least it'll make for an interesting year," Lee said, coming around with a large cloth bag and taking the fireworks out of the twins' hands, dropping them into the bag. "Watching all the witches drool over him, I mean."

Evette bristled a bit at that, reaching forward and snatching the bag out of his grip. The boys started to protest, but she fished a box out and held it up threateningly. "You better be careful with these. You've got some big ones here. I'll tell Percy if you're not careful."

"You wouldn't!" Fred gasped.

"Yes, yes, we get it, we're very naughty boys and you won't stand for our nonsense," George said, somewhat irritably. He pulled the box out of her hand and dropped it back into the canvas bag, swinging it over his shoulder and pulling on Fred's arm, jerking his chin towards Flourish & Blotts. "Mum and everyone'll be expecting us, and I don't wanna push it after the—you know—car thing."

"What car thing?" Lara asked curiously, but the twins ignored her.

"Nice to meet you!" Lee said politely, waving goodbye to Mr. Wright and the girls as he followed the twins towards the crowd. While the twins squeezed into the overpacked shop, Lee whistled a farewell and ran further down the street, leaving the girls and Mr. Wright to turn elsewhere and wait for the line at Flourish & Blotts to die down.

❧

October 1992

_"BOO!!!"_

Evette, Lara, and Angelina all screamed in alarm at the hairy figures lunging towards them from the open face of one of Hagrid's giant jack-o-lanterns.

The Great Hall was decorated for Halloween; carved pumpkins filled with candles floating above the tables, bats flew by overhead, skeletons lined the walls, and the lights were eerily dim. 

"Fred! George! What did you do to your face?" Angelina demanded, her hand over her heart.

The twins slapped palms, giggling uncontrollably, and raised their wands, beginning to de-charm their faces. They'd covered themselves in multi-colored hair and disgusting boils, all to scare the girls walking into the Great Hall. Though it had worked, it seemed like an awful lot of work.

"Come on, ladies, the party is just beginning," said George, dipping in a comically low bow once he'd finished returning his face to its typical freckle-covered state.

Evette sat between Lara and Angelina, across from the boys and Lee.

"Let's just hope a troll doesn't interrupt us this year," Lara said, not hesitating to start serving herself some shepherd's pie.

"Let's hope Filch doesn't catch you dropping Dungbombs," Evette said with a pointed stare at the twins. Matching smiles slipped onto their features at the memory, and Evette felt rather proud. She decided that as irritating as they were, she liked to make them smile.

"To no trolls and to Filch's misery!" Fred said, raising his goblet of pumpkin juice high.

"Here, here!" George agreed.

The six friends clinked cups and drank, Evette shaking her head but smiling all the same. They continued to chat and drink and eat, and soon dinner cleared and was replaced with all sorts of desserts. Even though she was full, Evette couldn't seem to stop eating.

George looked wistfully towards a platter of multi-colored dragonblood fudge, one hand on his stomach. Evette watched him for a moment before making up her mind. She placed a large square of the fudge on her plate and pushed it closer to him, so it was in the middle of the table. He arched a curious brow.

"I'm too stuffed to eat it all," she said smoothly. "Care to share?"

He just stared at her, a childlike grin spreading up onto his face. He nodded once, very slowly. "Yeah, alright, Ollie."

They ate the fudge with their knives and forks, and together it was soon gone. George sat back contentedly, burping loudly. Evette pulled a face. "Charming as always, Weasley."

"Sorry," said George, but he didn't sound it much.

Just as everyone was starting to grow sleepy, Dumbledore waved his hands and the lights dimmed. With a great rattling noise, the skeletons standing around the perimeter started to move. Dumbledore waved his wand and some lively music began to play. Soon, all the students were clapping and stomping to the beat as the skeletons engaged in a delightful choreographed routine.

They linked elbows, swung one another around, and did the typical group steps. But they also popped off their skulls and traded them, threw their ribs in wide arcs like boomerangs, and disconnected their hips in order to take extra-long steps.

The performance ended with a great kick line before the skeletons all stood at attention and dropped into measly piles of bones in front of the staff table. The students all gave a standing ovation. Fred and George cupped their hands around their mouths and shouted, "WELL DONE, BONES!"

Once the applause had stilled, Dumbledore waved his hands and the lights lifted. With a merry twinkle in his eye and a corner of his mouth upturned, he announced, "Happy Halloween, each and every one of you! May your dreams be of the most frightening variety! Please, return to your common rooms!"

With a great scraping noise, the benches were all pushed back and Hogwarts students of every age and House began to walk back towards their common rooms, stomachs full and heads rather fuzzy.

Evette walked with Lara and the twins at the front of the mob. They quickly walked up the stairs towards the second-floor corridor; the Ravenclaw half of the mob took the other route.

Just as Evette was saying, "I might not wake up when Dawn comes calling tomorrow, I'm so tired," the crowd froze. Something was definitely out of place on the second-floor corridor.

Evette took in the sight, hardly daring to believe it.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were standing in the middle of the corridor, between the two crowds of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws who had stumbled upon the scene. The floor was covered in a thin layer of water. It was slick underfoot. Hanging from a torch bracket on the wall by her tail was Mrs. Norris, Filch's old cat. She was unmoving, limbs splayed, eyes wide. Most horrifying of all were the words on the wall, painted in what eerily looked like blood:

**_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._ **

Evette's blood ran cold. She shuffled a little closer to George. A voice to her left, high and drawling, sneered, "Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco Malfoy, that dreadful little Slytherin boy two years below Evette. Lara tensed beside Evette; she'd learned what that horrid word meant back in their first year. Evette reached out and took Lara's hand, hoping to pass on a bit of courage.

"Is that Filch's cat?" said Angelina, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked pale.

"I suppose that's on us, eh, George?" said Fred with a wry smile, elbowing his twin. _"To Filch's misery_ and all that."

George forced a weak laugh, but Evette recognized the look on his face. George felt sick. He felt uncomfortable. And most of all, he felt that whatever it was they had stumbled upon, was most assuredly _not_ funny.

❧

November 1992

The next weekend was the first Quidditch match of the season. Evette had only made reserve— _again—_ but she handled it a lot better this time. Tensions were still high from Mrs. Norris's Petrification the weekend prior, but everyone seemed to be hopeful that Quidditch could distract them for a few hours.

That is, until a rogue Bludger nearly took Harry Potter's head off.

Evette's knuckles were white on the banister as she watched Fred and George practically act as Harry's honor guard, doing what little they could to keep the Bludger from knocking him off his broom. But they'd never _win_ that way, surely Harry could barely focus on flying straight, let alone on looking for the Snitch....

George called for a time out. The entire Gryffindor section was shouting, but it just sounded like a jumbled mess. Evette saw Oliver nod sharply at Harry, and they all mounted their brooms again.

If there had been any doubts about Harry's skill on a broomstick before this, they were faithfully laid to rest now. Evette had never seen such an awesome display. He spun and ducked and weaved and about-faced and dove and just about every other technique in the book, always keeping the Bludger just far enough away while he looked back and forth for the Snitch that would end this nightmare.

It seemed like Harry might actually pull it off. The Gryffindor Chasers were doing well, anyway, and Wood never seemed to let the Slytherin Quaffle through. Then things began to go from bad to worse.

It happened in slow motion. One minute, Harry and Draco Malfoy were facing off on opposing brooms. The Bludger made a very slow and clumsy turn. There was a flash of gold by Draco's head. Harry lifted an arm to reach for it, not noticing the Bludger honing in on him again.

_Crunch._

Even from the stands, Evette heard Harry's cry of pain as the Bludger collided with his arm, but he didn't let it stop him. Evette didn't bother to watch the catch; she turned, pushed through the crowd, and began to run towards the steps that would dump her out on the pitch.

The crowd got louder, but it didn't necessarily sound good. Then everyone gave a great cry and Evette heard Lee Jordan shout, "Harry Potter's somehow managed to catch the Snitch! Gryffindor wins! Oh, but he doesn't look so good...."

Evette pushed past the tarp covering of the bleachers and emerged on the grassy pitch, sprinting towards the limp figure she knew to be Harry Potter. The other Gryffindors were starting to head that direction; Ron and Hermione, obviously, and that little first year with the camera, Colin Creevey.

The Professors emerged from the opposite side of the field, marching briskly towards him. The Slytherin team didn't even bother to see if he was alright, they just touched down outside their changing rooms and went in. The Gryffindor team, on the other hand, was rapidly landing all around Harry. Soon the crowd was too thick to see through even if Evette had wanted to get closer.

George and Fred landed rather clumsily a few yards away, the Bludger rocketing towards them. As it shot towards them with intent to maim, Fred managed to take it in his arms, tucking it against his chest and allowing the momentum to carry him onto the ground. George fell on top of him, helping to wrestle the Bludger.

Nearby, Angelina and Alicia were frantically carrying out the case used to hold the four Quidditch balls.

"Hurry up!" Fred roared, rather red in the face. "Don't know how much longer—!"

"We're trying!" Alicia cried, her eyes wide and panicked. She managed to flip the lid open, but a moment too late. The Bludger shot upwards high, high, high into the air... and then came barreling back down, intending to smash the twins to smithereens. They didn't have their wands, those were back with their school robes in the changing rooms—

_"Immobulus!"_

The Bludger froze in mid-air, just a couple feet above the twins' heads. They turned, chests heaving, to see Evette standing there, wand drawn. She didn't even remember drawing it.

"Thanks for that, Ollie," George said, voice weak.

"Don't mention it," she answered, feeling a bit faint.

Angelina and Alicia made quick work of locking away the rogue Bludger, and Evette and the twins walked closer to the crowd surrounding Harry. They couldn't quite seem to get close enough, and they all finally gave up trying, looking much angrier than Evette had first thought.

"I've got half a mind to punch Oliver in the teeth," George snarled. _"'Get the Snitch or die trying.'_ Honestly! What's he playing at?"

"Wood said that?" Evette asked, standing between the two boys.

Fred nodded grimly, still breathing heavy—they both were, though whether it was from the game, the Bludger, or emotion, it was hard to tell.

At that moment, they heard Oliver say loudly, "Honestly, Harry, great catch, your best yet, I'd say—"

George made as if to move aggressively towards Oliver, but Fred held him back. Evette looked over the both of them: messy hair, red faces, heaving chests, untidy clothes. For some strange reason, she felt a bit warm. George caught her staring. "What?" he snapped impatiently.

"Nothing," she said. Her voice sounded very far away and not at all her own. "I think I'll go find Lara and drink some water. Glad everyone's alright after all."

And so she did.

❧

December 1992

Things didn't get better as the holidays drew closer. Colin Creevey was the next victim to be found.

For some reason, little Ginny Weasley was extremely fragile about the whole Petrification business. George said it was because she had sat next to Colin in Charms, but Evette wasn't convinced; no matter the reason, her older brothers certainly were going an odd route in cheering her up.

They'd hide around corners, cover their faces in multi-colored boils, and jump out at her. They pulled one such stunt as Evette was coming out of a Muggle Studies class the boys had skived off of. Rather than scream in surprise like usual, Ginny just shoved Fred hard in the chest, looking furious.

"Would you leave her alone?" Evette snapped. "She obviously doesn't find it funny!"

"Yeah?" Fred countered, rubbing the spot where Ginny had hit him and glaring at Evette as the boils faded. "Think you know better than we do?"

Evette turned pointedly to face Ginny, who she'd never really spoken to, and placed a hand on the much smaller girl's shoulder. She tried for a charming smile and said lightly, "With brothers like these, who needs Slytherin's monster, right?"

Ginny stared right back at Evette before promptly bursting into tears. She tore her arm from Evette's grip and rushed down the corridor and out of sight. Evette blinked, stunned at what had just happened, before turning to look at a now boil-free George, who was trying not to laugh and failing miserably.

"Not as easy as it looks, is it?" Fred snickered. 

❧

No More Than Two Weeks Later

"Yes, yes, well _done,_ Mr. Jacobsen!"

Looking as though he may faint from the praise, Moises fell back into his seat beside Fred. The rest of the fourth years politely applauded. Professor Flitwick scanned his Charms class, a twinkle in his eye. "Who would like to demonstrate next? Don't be shy, now!"

Alicia raised her hand and quickly stood up. She cleared her throat and lifted her wand. In a clear voice, she said, _"Accio apple!"_

The apple, which had just been sitting on Moises's desk, quickly zipped across the room. She caught it easily with the skills of a Gryffindor Chaser and smiled proudly.

Evette felt George stir next to her, and a low voice breathed in her ear, "Are you as bored as I am?"

"Mm," was all she said in reply.

"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Instantly alert, Evette's head shot up from where it had been lazily perched on her palm. She looked at George, at Lee, at Fred, and finally at Lara. On an unspoken signal, every fourth year stood and began to run towards the door. Carter Smalls, who was closest, pushed it open first.

Professor Flitwick didn't even bother to argue; this was something Evette quite liked about him.

There in the hallway was Harry Potter, standing near the Petrified forms of a second year in Hufflepuff robes that Evette didn't recognize and—

"Is that Nearly Headless Nick?" Lara squeaked from beside Evette.

All along the hallway, other classroom doors banged open to stumble upon the very same scene.

The next few minutes were a blur of chaos and pandemonium. Flitwick ended up dismissing his fourth year class to help McGonagall with the crowd control, but they were under strict instruction to return _immediately_ to their common room and stay there till the end of the period. As Evette walked with Lara and the twins, they kept passing students curiously headed towards the hubbub.

The twins helped to sweep them in the other direction, saying loudly, "Nothing to see here. Harry Potter—you know, the Heir of Slytherin—is drinking the blood of a random Hufflepuff down the corridor! Don't you worry your head over it!"

They fell to bits laughing at their own joke. When the four finally returned to the common room, they picked a table for themselves. Evette and Lara set to work unloading their books to spend the rest of the period finishing their homework.

"You don't seriously think Harry is the Heir, do you?" Lara said anxiously.

Fred barked out a sharp laugh. "Of course not, Crumb. Do _you?"_ he asked sharply, suddenly nervous.

"No, no, of course not," Lara said quickly.

"You've heard what they're saying about him, though," Evette said under her breath. "And I was at the Dueling Club, I _heard_ him speak in Parseltongue. It's fishy, wouldn't you say?"

George had pulled out an Exploding Snap deck and was shuffling it aimlessly. He had a slight grin on his face, but he sounded dead serious when he said, "Honestly, Ollie, Harry's not your guy. I've never met a kid with a bigger heart. He makes Ron look like a stone-cold git, never mind us. There's no way he's the Heir."

"Well, then who is?" Lara hissed.

Fred shrugged, leaning back in his chair and drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "Dunno, just know it isn't Harry. Anyone who thinks so is a proper idiot, I'll say that."

"Harry's a billion times more likely to _catch_ the Heir than be him," George added confidently.

Evette looked back and forth between the twins, a little stunned. She'd never heard them go so long in a conversation without making a sarcastic comment or joke. As she set to work on her Astronomy paper, she felt a bit calmer. Their confidence was soothing. 

There was certainly something comforting in the idea that the two biggest jokesters in the school had complete and utter faith in something.

❧

December 1992

It was the last week of term when Evette had her first kiss.

She was sitting in the library with Cedric Diggory, Roxanna Dawes, and Anaya Gray. They'd found a secluded corner table. Originally, they'd been studying for Potions, but before long that deteriorated into playing paper football—a game Roxanna showed them—and giggling helplessly.

The library would be closing soon. Not wanting to be caught out late, Roxanna got up first.

"I'll walk with you," Anaya said quickly, glancing shyly at Roxanna. "Our common rooms are kind of close, anyway."

"Alright, Anaya," Roxanna said, nodding maybe a little too eagerly. "See you back at the common room, Ced?"

"Take your time," he told her with a crooked grin.

Evette suddenly realized it was just her and Cedric. She tried not to think too much about it, but it was hard when those grey eyes kept flickering towards her. They got to talking. Cedric admitted he'd just been dumped by his first girlfriend—a Hufflepuff the year above him. It hadn't lasted long, but it was still a bit awkward to see her in the common room.

Against her better judgment, Evette told him all about Lara and her muggle boyfriend and how it made Evette feel a little inferior and silly in comparison. Cedric's eyebrows crinkled. "Why? Just because she's kissed a boy?"

Evette felt a bit warm. There was _no way_ this was happening. She tried to explain, but she felt like she was babbling, so she stopped.

Cedric was pink when he stammered, "I mean, just if you wanted to get it out of the way—I mean, it's rather silly—but if you'd feel better—"

They had inched slowly closer over the course of this conversation, their books long forgotten on the table. Cedric's hand was on the back of Evette's chair. She glanced up. There was a sprig of mistletoe hanging over their heads. Cedric followed her gaze. When they looked back down again, their noses were nearly touching.

_Bloody hell._

Evette walked back to the Gryffindor common room in a dizzy haze, her bookbag thumping against her hip. Lara asked what she was smiling about when she collapsed onto her bed, but she couldn't bring herself to reply. She hadn't even noticed that she was.

❧

January 1993

Christmas was uneventful at Lara's. Evette had never had a Muggle Christmas before, and it was frankly quite boring. While Lara and her boyfriend cuddled on the couch and Evette sat on the armchair, her mind wandered.

She replayed her kiss with Cedric. It hadn't even been particularly romantic, merely a friend doing another friend a favor. But he was really quite good at—er— _favors._

She thought about her brother and wondered if she'd see him for summer. Maybe he was home right now and she'd missed him. At the thought, she cursed herself.

Most of all, though, she thought about the twins, which was a surprise. She thought about the fact that she used to hate them, and now she sat with them in most classes. They were irritatingly endearing, and she couldn't imagine a future at Hogwarts without them. Especially with how _dull_ things were at the Crumbs', she found herself longing for their wild antics to stir things up and bring some excitement. She couldn't stop from wondering what a Christmas at the Weasleys' was like.

When she and Lara returned from their holidays, Evette was quick to search for the twins, but oddly enough, they were nowhere to be seen. Evette spent that whole first morning looking for them. Oliver said that they'd held a casual Quidditch practice that morning, but it was long over now. 

Figuring she'd see them at dinner, Evette decided to turn in an assignment McGonagall had allowed her to take home with her over the holidays for partial credit. In rather high spirits, she skipped towards the Transfiguration classroom, the assignment clutched in her hand.

There was a fair chance McGonagall was in her office or the teacher's lounge, but this was as good a place as any to check first. Evette didn't bother to knock as she yanked open the Transfiguration classroom door and instantly regretted it.

She took in the sight in a split second: an empty classroom with no sign of McGonagall. Red hair and scarlet Quidditch robes. Curly brown hair and canary yellow Quidditch robes. A mess of hands and hair and lips and—oh, god, _tongue._

The girl gasped, turning to look at Evette and hitting the boy on the shoulder.

"Sorry, I'll just—"

Evette never finished her sentence; she didn't even recall slamming the door till she was two flights up. Her heart was racing more than two staircases warranted and she was uncomfortably hot. She leaned against a wall, feeling very light-headed. She struggled to process what she'd just seen.

She'd reached a point now that she could rather easily tell the Weasley twins apart. Fred was the tiniest bit taller and George's voice was the tiniest bit deeper, and they always tended to carry themselves a bit differently. George's face was a little slimmer, and Fred's hands were shaped differently. But she'd been so overwhelmed by the sight of a Gryffindor Beater snogging a Hufflepuff Chaser that she hadn't paused to try and differentiate between the two.

Of course she recognized the girl. Briony Lark. Fourth year. No one on the Hufflepuff team had such a wild mane. Her hair was frizzier than Hermione Granger's, which was saying something. And she was _gorgeous._ Honestly, good on whichever twin it had been.

Suddenly swept with an overwhelming desire _not_ to get caught by either one of them, Evette started to run up the stairs back towards the common room. Her stomach twisted a bit. She couldn't get the image out of her brain.

His hands had been on her waist, pulling her towards him, while his neck arched hungrily towards her. Her hands were on his face, one up in his hair, one leg half-raised and wrapped around his calf—

 _Stop it,_ Evette scolded herself as her stomach gave another sickening clench.

It wasn't until she collapsed onto her bed that she realized she hadn't turned in her Transfiguration assignment. She'd deal with it later. It certainly seemed like the least important thing on her mind right now.

❧

May 1993

Evette tried her best to laugh off the incident in the Transfiguration room. Neither of the twins mentioned it, and neither awkwardly glanced at her the next time she saw them, so she kept her mouth shut and focused on teasing Lara about her Muggle boyfriend.

Things stopped being funny, however, when Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater were both attacked and found Petrified. Quidditch was canceled. Nerves ran high. The whole mood in the castle became quite tense. Then Hagrid was removed and taken to Azkaban, much to the Gryffindors' dismay, and worse still, Dumbledore left. Things were becoming grimmer with every passing day.

Finally, just as it seemed things could get no worse, the fatal blow was delivered.

"Attention, please. You all must pack your things and prepare to leave. The Hogwarts Express will be taking you home first thing tomorrow morning. Hogwarts is not safe."

Rather than cry out or stir up a panic, an eerie silence fell over the common room as the gathered Gryffindors turned to look at Professor McGonagall. The house of cards George was constructing out of his Exploding Snap deck chose that moment to erupt, the cards fluttering limply around him like oversized confetti. He'd left a scorch mark on the table.

No one reacted.

"What's happened, Professor?" Oliver Wood asked in a voice that carried, but Evette could hear the slight tremor in it.

Professor McGonagall faltered. Evette had never seen their Head of House looking so worn-down. Her severe bun was coming slightly undone. Her shoulders were slumped. The creases on her face were deep, and there was a great sadness just under the surface of her expression. She looked at Oliver when he spoke, but then her gaze lifted and began to search the crowd.

It landed first on Percy Weasley, who had risen from his seat beside the fire when she walked in. Then it found little Ron Weasley, who had come running in with Harry less than a minute before McGonagall herself had arrived. It roamed again, finding Fred and George sat with Lara, Angelina, and Evette at a small table in the corner. Neither of them were smiling. Something unrecognizable flickered across McGonagall's face and she cleared her throat, addressing Oliver. Her voice was very soft.

"Ginny Weasley's been taken into the Chamber."

Evette expected a chattering commotion to explode as soon as McGonagall left, but it never came. Percy walked out soon after, muttering something about writing to his parents. As soon as McGonagall had made the announcement, Fred and George seemed to have retreated somewhere within themselves; their eyes were wide, their mouths agape, hardly daring to believe it, but knowing that no joke was this cruel.

They were now sat at a corner table with Harry and Ron, staring out the window. Evette felt guilty when she caught George wiping at his face with his sleeve.

Despite McGonagall's request, no one seemed eager to go upstairs and start packing. It didn't feel real. Hogwarts had always been safer for most people than their own homes. Now they were being turned away because it was actively unsafe. A few first years were crying under the notice board, which still had the Quidditch schedule up. It felt hollow and distinctly unfunny in contrast to what was going on.

Lara had suggested they work on homework to stay busy, but Angelina pointed out that they were being sent home—no homework, no classes, and no final exams. In other scenarios, that would have been exciting.

There was nothing exciting about this.

Eventually, Percy came back. Everyone looked up, for the first time longing for him to exert his prefect superiority. But he just shot an awkward look towards his brothers in the corner, adjusted his glasses, sniffled, and disappeared up the boys' dormitory staircase.

"We should go pack," Lara finally said in a very small voice. The sun was dipping low over the horizon outside.

"Yeah, alright," said Evette, feeling rather empty. She was first to gather her school supplies, sweeping them into her bag and marching towards the Weasleys before she could think better of it.

When Fred saw her approaching, he turned his head sharply to stare out the window. His knees were pulled tight to his chest, and he rested the side of his head on his arms. _Ohhh-kay, so he definitely doesn't want to talk...._

Ron was sitting in an armchair, sprawled out, Harry perched on the armrest. Ron's eyebrows were knit and he stared without seeing out the window as the sun turned the sky glorious shades of orange and pink. _No use upsetting him more. He's only thirteen._

George's back was to her. He was sitting in the alcove of one of the large windows, watching the sun set over the Black Lake and the forest beyond. His arms were propped on his knees and he was leaning forward. He was quiet, except he'd occasionally sniffle.

Evette placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't react.

"George," she said quietly, hating how her voice carried through the silently overflowing common room. "I just... I just wanted to say that... I don't know, really. I'm sorry, I suppose. And if you need help or anything—"

"What exactly will you do to help, huh? D'you want to march down into the Chamber yourself and bring her back?" George's eyes snapped to hers, a hard look on his face. This was different than his Quidditch anger; it was painful, it was still unfolding, and most of all, it wasn't going away anytime soon.

"No, I only meant—"

"Then I don't know what you're doing here, Evette. Why don't you...." He sucked in a sharp breath. His voice cracked when he finished, "You should go."

The use of her full name stung. George never called her 'Evette' anymore, not since they made peace. He turned to look back out the window, his hands folded tightly together. He shrugged his shoulders and Evette withdrew her hand quickly.

Fred and Ron didn't look at her, but Harry was eyeing her sympathetically. Evette's mouth flapped uselessly. "I... I was only...."

Harry moved his head in what could have either been a nod or a shake. Feeling utterly useless, Evette walked away from the group. Lara was waiting at the entrance to the girls' staircase, but Angelina had already gone up.

Evette cast one last glance over her shoulder before following Lara through. George was still looking out the window. As she watched, his face screwed up and he furiously dragged his sleeve against his nose.

"Come on," said Lara softly, and Evette allowed her best friend to lead her away from the heartbreaking scene.

❧

June 1993

It was nothing short of the best year's end yet for Evette. That night, as the girls in the dormitory had stayed up talking nervously about Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater and all the others, there'd been a loud pounding on their door.

Exchanging curious glances, Dawn (who was closest) answered it. Standing in the doorway in her pajamas was fifth year Ciara Byrne, a rather curvy girl with long dirty blonde hair and an infectious smile. 

"Alright, Ciara?" Alicia said anxiously.

Ciara was smiling that aforementioned smile, breathing heavily, her eyes sparkling. "Ginny Weasley's been rescued! Dumbledore's holding a feast! The Petrified people are going to be saved!"

_"What?"_

It was quite a sight—nearly four hundred students in their pajamas shuffling into the Great Hall, full of questions and not getting many answers. Dumbledore stood at the head table, waved his hands, and the decorations hung around the room began to shimmer golden in celebration.

Instinctually, Evette started to move to sit near the twins before thinking better of it. She glanced down the row at them; they both looked exhausted and their eyes were red. Her heart skipped a beat when she met George's eyes and she quickly looked away.

It was a blurry several hours, the first of which was just a jumble of confusion. It wasn't until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived in the entryway with a rather haggard looking Ginny that the pieces began to fall into place.

Fred, George, Percy, and Ron instantly jumped to their feet, the twins both roaring, "GINNY!" They sprinted between the tables, tackling their little sister with such a powerful group hug that all five ended up on the ground. The entire Great Hall burst into applause.

At half-past one, the Petrified students returned. Hermione came running in first, screaming, "You solved it, you solved it!" and Harry and Ron were so eager to hug her that Ron nearly fell flat on his face while disengaging from the table. Justin Finch-Fletchley came to the Gryffindor table before his own, enthusiastically shaking Harry's (who looked rather stunned) hand and thanking him profusely.

Everyone was so busy cheering for Harry, Ron, and Hermione's reunion that Evette was apparently the only one to notice Percy Weasley throwing his arms around Penelope Clearwater and kissing her passionately before sending her on her way to the Ravenclaw table.

When everyone had more or less settled down, Dumbledore delivered the splendid news: Harry and Ron would be receiving two hundred house points apiece, sealing the house cup for Gryffindor for the second year in a row. Evette screamed herself hoarse at that good news.

At half-past three, Hagrid returned. Dumbledore informed everyone that Lockhart would not be returning the next year, as he had lost his memory and would need to spend some time finding it. A little while after that, McGonagall announced that exams were canceled.

The last month of school was a sunshiney haze of laughs on the grass, skipping stones on the surface of the Black Lake, and Evette being too nervous to approach Fred and George, who were spending nearly every free moment with their family.

Ginny seemed to be in very high spirits now, which was a delight to see. It was a rather common sight to see her being paraded through the halls on the back of one of the twins; whichever one was currently unladen with her would shout in a dramatic voice, "Coming through, Heir of Slytherin passing by, watch out or you'll be next!"

This time, Ginny seemed to find the jokes plenty hilarious.

The day finally came to return home—for real this time. Evette boarded the train with Lara, Angelina, and Alicia. She let the others take the lead, pausing to tuck her scarf back into her trunk so it didn't drag while they walked down the corridor.

It felt odd to be leaving, especially since she hadn't really talked to half of her friends in about a month. She mentally prepared herself to spend a few more months thinking about how boring life was without the twins and Lee around to shake it up.

At that moment, her gaze happened to land on the inhabitants of the compartment right next to her. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were all sitting inside, and as Evette watched, one of Fred's gobstones spewed green goo right in Ron's face.

They all fell about laughing and Evette couldn't help but smile at the sight, but her chest felt a bit funny. It was like there was something painfully tugging at it. She cleared her throat, but that didn't help.

To her embarrassment, George looked out the door at that moment and his eyes landed on hers. Evette wanted to hurry on her way, but Angelina was standing in front of her, blocked by the students in the compartment ahead juggling who would sit where and half standing in the corridor.

But to her great surprise, George didn't ignore her as she expected. In fact, when he recognized her, a huge smile spread across his features. He lifted his hand and waved, and it took Evette a moment before she realized he was _beckoning_ her.

A slow smile spread across her face, and it didn't seem to want to stop growing. She managed to shake her head and point towards Angelina: _I've already got a seat._

He teasingly shook his head at her and she could practically hear him in her head. _"Tut, tut, Ollie, I see how it is. Too good for us commonfolk now."_

She chuckled softly to herself. Angelina began to move forward, groaning, "Took you lot long enough."

Waving goodbye, Evette followed her friends and collapsed into a compartment with them. As soon as she had arrived home and finished her hugs and hellos to her parents and sister, she pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill and wrote George Weasley a letter.

Well, that's not entirely true. She wrote several copies of the same letter, each one less satisfactory than the last. She finished her final draft past midnight. It was quite long, but it was important she got the words right. She tiptoed downstairs to where her mother's owl was sitting on his perch. She stroked him softly before handing him the letter. He took off into the night.

And she had signed the letter:

_Your friend,  
Evette._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thus concludes the five-part prologue! the story ACTUALLY begins from this point forward.
> 
> (yeah, that's a 20k+ word prologue. this is a fanfiction of most epic proportions.)
> 
> please give me your thoughts and feedback and opinions, even the tiniest comments push me to write more for you guys. my tumblr, AO3, and wattpad are all the same: chalknpolish.
> 
> hope you enjoyed, see you next wednesday with the proper start of 'dragon heartstring' :))


	6. PART ONE - YEAR FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN WALKS FREE

When they first met, George Weasley and Evette Ollivander-Wright were _not_ friends. In fact, they rather disliked one another. He got a thrill out of causing mischief, and she got a thrill out of snitching on him for causing that mischief. They made quite the pair, though not the kind of pair that people may have expected or hoped from two children of such well-respected bloodlines.

But when have the Weasleys ever tried to fit into the pureblood mold?

As for Evette, she was very firm on the stance that she was not an Ollivander—she was an Ollivander-Wright, born to a muggle father and proud of it.

Over time, the two learned to play nice. Indeed, by the end of their fourth year, they could call one another friend without flinching too horribly. They'd certainly been through a great deal together, and a great deal more now that Harry Potter—the Chosen One—the Boy Who Lived—was two years below them.

As the summer before their fifth year blooms, things are going to change, as they always do as we grow up. Evette and her friends are fifteen now. Emotions are starting to ratchet up in intensity. Friendships may not stay as friendships, and relationships always cause a mess when you have to sit near your ex in Potions class. As if that weren't hard enough, gears are in motion outside the safe walls of the castle that will change the course of wizarding history forever.

Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban prison, and he's headed right for Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go folks!! the meat of the story is arriving!! there will be some divergences from canon. i'll obviously be following the plots of the books for the most part, there will just be some slight differences (cough, cough, improvements). try and spot them hehe.
> 
> also sorry about the delay on this chapter, but the next one's extra long, so i hope that makes up for it :)))
> 
> enjoy reading friends :)


	7. owls after dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer with her parents has always been a wonderful thing to Evette. Except being fifteen sucks. Ah, well. She may have discovered some certain...perks...to keep her spirits up this summer, and one of those perks may have just sent her another owl.

**I**   
_In Which Evette Receives A Letter_

❈

_Evette,_

_Was starting to think you'd never reply, though that was probably only because Errol wasn't up to the task of cross-ocean delivery. I'm assuming you gave him a bit of a break and used your owl instead, since that's the one watching me write this right now. If that's the case, thanks—Mum'd be terribly upset if he died on us, we can't really afford a new one right now. If that isn't the case—still, thank you, because I've been secretly wanting to get rid of him for months now._

_I'm not going to send you the newsclipping, because I know you've already seen it. Little old us in the_ Prophet _! Can you believe it? It's quite exciting over here in Egypt. There's just so much to see! Bill gave us a tour of the pyramids, and if you tell anyone I told you this I'll hex you into next year, but they were really quite interesting. The Muggles never fully understood how they worked, of course, but those old Egyptian wizards really knew their stuff! Might take some of those ideas with us, though I can't imagine Mum'd be too pleased by that._

_I've attached a couple pictures from our trip. Ginny just came barging in and she says hello and to thank you for being so kind. I told her she met a very different Evette than I did._

_Is Lara with you? Tell her hi if she is. I expect we'll be here a few more weeks at least, but when we do come back, we should try and get everybody to meet up in Diagon Alley before term. Hopefully Fred and I's plan will go off without a hitch and Mum won't notice we've locked Percy in a pyramid till after we're back in London._

_Hope to hear from you soon,  
George W._

Sure enough, he had attached several moving photographs. Evette pushed the letter aside and carded through them.

One was of the whole family, though it was different than the one that had been in the _Prophet_. There were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, arm in arm and beaming; the older Weasley boys, Bill and Charlie, stood beside their parents; Percy was on the edge, and even he seemed to be having a good time; Fred and George stood on either side of their sister, Ginny, each with a hand on her shoulder; and Ron was standing beside Fred, giving a very enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Smiling to herself, Evette flipped to the next one.

It was of the second half of the Weasley siblings, from Fred to Ginny. They were all sitting at a lunch table, talking excitedly. As she watched the photograph, Ginny took notice of the camera and got the attention of her brothers, who all turned to wave excitedly at whoever was taking the photo.

The next was a shot of Fred and George, arms around one another in front of a pyramid. They both seemed taller and sturdier than they had been when she saw them last: more well built and, for lack of a better term, _manly._ She remembered when they had both been gangly and awkward first years. It was odd to see them growing up.

They weren't the only ones. Ron was rapidly closing the height difference between him and his brothers, though he was significantly less muscly. For the most part, the Weasley siblings tended to take after one or the other of their parents. Bill, Percy, and Ron, for example, all very closely resembled Mr. Weasley: tall, thin, and long-faced. Charlie was a male replica of his mother: compact, sturdy, and broad. Ginny was too young to tell, really, but if Evette had to guess, the twins and Ginny seemed to get a fair share from both parents.

While when she first met them, the twins had been long and stretched-out like their father, the older they got, the more they seemed to fit into their frames. Whereas Bill, Percy, and Ron remained thin and gangling, the twins were just the slightest bit broader, though it that was from their mother or their time on the Quidditch team, it was hard to tell. Either way, they just seemed altogether more confident and less awkward than their taller brothers.

Their jaws were rather squareish and strong, and they didn’t have the same long noses as Ron and Percy. Looking at the photographs, Evette could easily picture a future where the twins were the biggest Weasley boys, not just because of height, but because of confidence and personality.

The whole clan, however, had inherited the same fiery red hair and constellation-spattered-freckles. 

The last photograph was portrait as opposed to landscape, and it was the only truly candid shot. Ginny was up on George's shoulders, both of them with slightly awe-struck expressions. Ginny was pointing at something behind the camera, silently shouting.

Evette pushed that one to the side; it was her favorite of the lot.

She pushed herself off her bed and crossed to the owl cage sitting on her desk. Within it, her mother's owl, Apollo, was eagerly swallowing down some owl pellets and water after his long journey. He was a handsome great horned owl, golden brown in color. 

Sleeping above Apollo was the raggedy old grey owl belonging to the Weasleys—Errol. He'd arrived two weeks ago with George's last reply (which was pinned on the corkboard above Evette's desk) and promptly collapsed face-first on her floor. Deciding she didn't want to be responsible for the death of the Weasley family's owl, she asked permission to use Apollo for a long trip this time.

Evette stroked Apollo and he ruffled his feathers appreciatively, hooting gently. She turned back to the scattered photographs on her bed and made to scoop them up; she'd pin that picture of George and Ginny up next to the other photos of her friends on the corkboard, and add his most recent letter to the stack up there.

Before she could, however, her mother's voice called from downstairs: "You've still got to take down the bins, Evie, and you know I don't want you out after dark!”

"Coming, Mum!" Evette shouted back, setting the slips of paper down on her desk and moving towards her window. She leaned out, looking over the town sprawling below.

The Ollivander-Wrights lived about fifteen minutes north of Bath, overlooking the quaint village of Marshfield in South Gloucestershire. A winding, gravel path led back down into town, where the streetlights were starting to turn on. The sky was a delightful purplish-pink color, and the first stars were starting to pop up. Normally, Evette would have loved the way day turned to dusk, but not after recent events.

The most recent _Daily Prophet_ article about the topic was laying unfolded on her desk. She couldn't help but keep rereading it. She shifted, looking at the big black text that sent shivers down her spine.

**_BLACK STILL AT LARGE_ **

The notorious mass murderer, Sirius Black, had escaped Azkaban prison a few weeks back, and there was little else making the front page these days, even if there was very little new information to be reported. Even the Muggles knew about Black.

"Evette, now, please!”

"I said I'm coming!”

Sending one last frustrated glance out her window, she slammed it shut and ran downstairs. Her family was all sitting in the den, her mother with a rather annoyed look on her face.

Calliope Ollivander had long, strawberry-blonde hair she kept pinned out of her face most days. Her eyes were big and green, and she had very light freckles across the bridge of her nose. Apparently, back when she was at Hogwarts, she had caught the attention of many boys her age, which was why it was such a scandal when she married Mark Wright the Muggle paperboy.

Evette's father had fluffy brown hair and brown eyes that sat behind large circular glasses frames. He was tall and slender, and his clothes never quite seemed to fit him properly. He had gone on to own the newspaper he used to run papers for, so he was doing quite well.

Laying on her stomach in front of the fireplace was Evette's younger sister, Elizabeth Marie. Elizabeth was twelve-going-on-thirteen and a Muggle, something she pretended didn't bother her but most definitely did. She had dark blonde hair, bushy like her father's, that she tended to keep in two french braids on either side of her head rather than actually deal with. She had glasses like her father, too, but her eyes were all her mother’s.

"Why can't Lizzy take them out this week?" Evette asked. "I was in the middle of something!”

"Writing another letter to Lara?" Elizabeth shot back, turning to look over her shoulder. She had a Muggle magazine open on the floor in front of her. "You do that all the time, it doesn't count.”

"No, _not_ Lara, actually," Evette answered crossly.

"As if you have any other friends," snapped Elizabeth.

Before the girls could devolve into too fierce of an argument, Mrs. Ollivander lifted one of her hands into the air and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. "Please, Evette, it'll take you barely five minutes," she said tiredly.

"It'd take less if you let me use magic," Evette pushed, trying for a winning smile.

"Pick your battles, kiddo," said Mr. Wright, and before Evette could say what he knew she wanted to, he added on, "This isn't one you should pick. Just hurry, the daylight's nearly gone.”

While it was true taking the trash bins down the hill to the main road wouldn't take Evette a dreadfully long time, she didn't like the chore, especially in the weeks since Black's escape made the news. She tried to do it quick as she could, feeling almost like she was racing against the setting sun.

By the time she made it back up to the house, her mother was standing on the front step, watching her rather anxiously. The sky was a dark blue color and when Evette looked westward, the horizon was barely orange. The sun had officially set.

"I wish you wouldn't argue like that," Mrs. Ollivander said, ushering Evette inside and locking the door behind her.

"Mum, I don't think Sirius Black would be waiting to ambush an underage witch in Gloucestershire," Evette sighed, going over to the kitchen counter and cutting into a tray of brownies her sister had made.

"Don't pretend to know how a murderer's mind works," Mrs. Ollivander said. Her tone was light enough, but this whole business had been rather draining for her, Evette could tell. Mrs. Ollivander worked in the Ministry of Magic in the Department of International Magic Cooperation, specifically the Regulation and Registration of Wand-Wielders Office. While Evette was away at Hogwarts, Mrs. Ollivander was often bouncing around the country, taking note of all the new wands sold and to whom.

Since Black's escape, security for wandmakers was at an all-time high, meaning Mrs. Ollivander was forced to put in a great deal of overtime. To make matters worse, wandmakers were not necessarily the most receptive to handing over information about their craft.

"Have you cleaned up your room?" Mrs. Ollivander asked, obviously wanting to change the topic. Her tone was conversational, and she was leaning against the kitchen sink, arms folded and eyebrows knit.

Evette tried not to get too ruffled at her mother's question; she knew she hadn't meant for it to sound nagging, but it still had. She chewed the brownie slowly, taking her time swallowing before answering, "A bit.”

Mrs. Ollivander's brows drew the tiniest bit closer. "Evette...your best friend arrives tomorrow. Don't you want your room to be clean for her?”

Evette shrugged, avoiding her mother's gaze. "Lara doesn't care what my room looks like.”

"But you do," Mrs. Ollivander pushed. "I know you'll be embarrassed if Lara walks in to a mess.”

"Alright, fine, I'll clean it," Evette snapped.

"Evette, I'm not trying to—"

"I know you're not, but you are," grumped Evette, shoving the last of the brownie into her mouth and barging out of the kitchen, passing Elizabeth in the doorway as she went. As she made it to the first landing, she heard Elizabeth saying to their mother, "I dunno why she's so mean this summer.”

"That happens when we get older," Mrs. Ollivander replied, sounding extremely tired.

"I hope that never happens to me," Elizabeth said brightly.

"Me, too, darling," said Mrs. Ollivander gently, and Evette could picture her mother enfolding Elizabeth in a warm embrace. Feeling hot and annoyed, she slammed her bedroom door shut behind her.

As soon as she was alone in her room again, her eyes fell upon her corkboard and the picture of her closest friends from school. Lara Crumb, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet were all waving warmly back at her from where they were clumped around a table in the Gryffindor common room.

She took the pin out of the magical photograph, removing it from its place between Lee Jordan commentating an extra-exciting Quidditch match and Carter Smalls standing next to Anaya Gray in the snow (with Fred Weasley popping up from behind his snow fort in the background).

Lara Crumb was a very pretty Muggle-born girl of fifteen. Her father was Chinese but her mother was Irish, so she had long, silky black hair and a spattering of tan freckles on her cheeks. Evette missed her so badly that sometimes it made her chest ache; she loved her family, but Lara was the one who had been by her side nearly every second of every day at school. But tomorrow Lara would be arriving at the Ollivander-Wrights' and she'd be staying till school started in a month.

The thought calmed Evette down. She wasn't sure what had gotten into her lately, but the smallest things seemed to upset her. She was marking off each day on her calendar until she would be boarding the Hogwarts Express again, something she'd never done before.

She put the picture of her friends back on her board. Glancing towards the owl cage on top of her dresser, she noticed that Errol and Apollo both seemed to be snoozing. Evette was relieved to see that Errol looked decidedly less raggedy than he had earlier.

That reminded her...she sifted through the photographs on her desk, putting the one of George and Ginny up with the other pictures of her friends. Then she folded his letter and added it to the stack of others he'd sent her over the summer. Pulling out her desk chair, she took a seat and pressed pen to paper.

_Dear George...._

❧

_"Oh my gosh—EVIE!”_

“Oof!"

Lara tackled Evette in a bone-crushing hug, her words devolving into incoherent gibberish as she squealed with excitement.

"It's only been a few weeks," Evette said once Lara had released her tight grip, instead holding Evette at arm's length and examining every inch of her face.

"Don't say _a few weeks_ like it's been less than a month," Lara said sternly, but she wasn't yet meeting Evette's eyes. "Six weeks and you've gotten even more beautiful! Unfair, it is!”

Evette felt her cheeks warm a bit at the attention and praise. "Well—what about you? Gavin must go mad whenever he sees you!”

Lara flushed a bit at the mention of her Muggle boyfriend. Evette wasn't overexaggerating; Lara Crumb was genuinely one of the most beautiful girls in their year, and possibly all of Gryffindor House. She had a lithe, athletic build she'd inherited from her mother and fashion sense that put Evette's to shame. Even today, when she'd sat in a car for hours and hours and woken up at an ungodly hour, she made a loose-knit jumper and jeans look graceful.

"Don't go changing the topic," Lara said, her hands still on Evette's shoulders. "I haven't changed all that much—but you! What happened? Did your mum hit you with a beauty charm? Where did all your awkward shapeliness go?”

Evette shoved Lara's shoulder playfully. "I wasn't _that_ awkward. I guess I was just a late bloomer, is all.”

Lara wasn't wrong; Evette had changed a significant amount over the past six weeks. She had grown a bit and lost a great deal of her pre-teen weight. Her hair (dark reddish-brown with honey blonde highlights that naturally waved in a jealousy-inspiring fashion) had grown out so that it hung past her shoulders. Her eyes were a fascinating green-brown color, certain days seeming more one than the other. Her skin was olive and surprisingly clear, and only in the sun did you pick up on a small handful of pale freckles her mother had given her on the bridge of her nose.

Before, Lara would have described Evette as rather pale, with an almost sickly complexion; she had dark hair, hazel eyes, and round cheeks like most children. But gazing upon her best friend, she was overwhelmed by the abundance of adjectives that could possibly be used to describe her now.

"Alright, girls, help me get these trunks upstairs, would you?" asked Mr. Wright, interrupting the girls' reunion and nudging his daughter good-naturedly. "Would your parents like to come in for a spot of tea, Lara?”

As it so happened, Mr. and Mrs. Crumb did want to come in for a spot of tea. They stayed for nearly two hours before bidding Lara goodbye, planting lots of embarrassing kisses on her face before hugging Evette, shaking Mr. Wright and Mrs. Ollivander's hands, and walking back to their car to begin the long drive back home.

Elizabeth hadn't bothered to come out of her room when Lara arrived, and she only made a slight appearance when the girls began to walk upstairs to Evette's room. Elizabeth cracked her own second-floor bedroom door open, staring at the girls.

"Hi, Lara," she said monotonously.

"Hello, Elizabeth Marie," Lara chirped back. "Fancy showing me some of your drawings later?"

Elizabeth turned a bit pink and nodded, quickly closing her door again. Rather pleased with herself, Lara followed Evette into her bedroom and sat down on her bed, already making herself at home.

"I think my sister likes you more than she likes me," Evette said casually, sitting at her desk.

"Because I actually ask about her interests," Lara replied quickly. "It's not that hard, Evie. She wants to be as special as you are.”

"But I'm not—"

Lara shot Evette a fierce look, properly shutting her up. She popped up to her feet, perusing Evette's room. Too late, Evette remembered all the rather embarrassing evidence hung above her desk. Lara's eyes brightened and she lunged forward, unpinning the stack of letters.

"No, Lara, don't!" whined Evette, but she couldn't help but giggle as she and Lara tussled for the letters.

"'Dear Evette,'" Lara said loudly, wriggling just out of arm's reach and reading the first reply Evette had received. "'How very kind of you to reach out! Ginny is doing well, and she's touched that you cared enough to ask after her. Trust me, we're all just as relieved as you that she's back safe and sound. As for summer plans, we—' hey! Aw, come on, Evie, it was just getting good!”

Rather pink in the face, Evette stuffed the letters unceremoniously into her desk drawer and slammed it shut. 

"How long have you and George Weasley been pen-pals, then?" Lara sniffed, folding her arms with a smug smirk on her face.

"Just for the summer," Evette mumbled, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I wanted to check in after the whole Ginny thing last year. Not with him, specifically—the whole family. He's just the first one I thought of.”

Lara hummed. "I'm sure," she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 

Anxious to change the subject, Evette suggested the two girls go into the back garden and play some Quidditch. Trees shielded this half of the house from the Muggle village below, and Mrs. Ollivander had magicked some very tall hedges as an extra precaution so the girls could practice freely. When he was at school, Atlas had been Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, so he'd needed the space to practice.

Evette instantly regretted thinking of Atlas as Lara sped past her on her old Shooting Star; her brother's face sent a sharp pang right through her chest.

Luckily, Lara always knew how to keep Evette's mind off of such upsetting things. Lara's first day at the Ollivander-Wrights' was just as chaotic and lovely as ever. They played Quidditch till lunchtime, at which point Mr. Wright called the girls in for lemonade and sandwiches. After stuffing themselves, the girls dashed upstairs to unpack Lara's trunk. Before long, all her belongings were pleasantly scattered about Evette's room.

At this point, the sun was beginning its descent towards the horizon. Lara and Evette went to the rooftop garden her parents kept. Mr. Wright had a not-so-secret love for gardening, and Mrs. Ollivander had always had a knack for Herbology at school. The girls wandered the thin pathways between rows of normal things—carrots and strawberries and the like—and more exciting ventures, like the Venemous Tentacula in the corner.

"Dinner, girls!" called Mr. Wright from the open downstairs window, his voice raising through the dusky air.

Tossing an overripe blackberry at Lara, Evette turned and dashed down the stairs, giggling madly. Lara gave hot pursuit. As the two girls burst into the downstairs kitchen area, there was a sharp knock on the front door. Evette hardly paid it any attention, putting the kitchen island between herself and Lara.

"Mind getting that, Evie, dear?" Mrs. Ollivander asked mildly, stepping carefully around the girls. "And can you get out the cutlery for tonight, please, Lara? Thanks, darling.”

"Sure, Mum," said Evette, sticking her teasing tongue towards Lara as she walked towards the front door. Lara pretended to swoon dramatically. Laughing breathlessly, Evette pulled the front door open.

She registered stylish pants and shirt in matching green, a dark russet-colored cloak clasped at the throat; broad shoulders; toned chest and arms with pronounced veins extending across the back of his hands; rather messy blond hair that was shorter on the sides; eyes like a pair of Honeydukes chocolates, but lacking their old warmth and surrounded with a few more lines.

Atlas Ollivander-Wright was at the front door.

❧

Dinner was awkward that night, and for several nights after. No one seemed quite sure what to say, not even Atlas.

There weren't even really any introductions to be made; Lara had met Atlas very briefly years ago, and both offered curt nods of recognition upon seeing one another again. Then Lara pulled Evette to the side, out of earshot of the rest of the Ollivander-Wrights gathered in the kitchen.

"You didn't tell me your brother would be coming home," she said crossly, her hands on her hips.

"I didn't know!" gasped Evette, her mind reeling. "It's been...I want to say _years_ since I've properly seen him last or owled him. I don't think he told Mum or Dad or Lizzy, either.”

Knuckles rapped on the doorway behind them and Mr. Wright appeared, his eyebrows knit. "Sorry to interrupt, girls—soup's on.”

So they all sat down and ate in silence—a rather hasty sixth seat added to the end of the table for Atlas. He hadn't removed his cloak, and it was quite an interesting sight, with all the Ollivander-Wrights in their Muggle clothes and he in his full Auror gear.

"So..." he said slowly after twelve minutes of awkward silence, "it's good to see you all.”

"And you, Atlas," said Mrs. Ollivander, though her voice sounded oddly tight. Lizzy couldn't seem to stop staring at her big brother, and kept missing her mouth with her fork.

"I expect you want to know what I've been up to.”

"That'd be good, yeah," squeaked Mrs. Ollivander.

"They thought You-Know-Who had gone overseas, so they sent me to investigate," said Atlas casually, and Mrs. Ollivander choked on her water.

Mr. Wright glanced anxiously at his wife, frozen in his seat. He had married Calliope Ollivander a mere handful of years before things had gotten _really_ bad for Muggles and Muggle-borns, some seventeen or so years ago. He was well-versed in 'You-Know-Who' and what that could mean for him and his family.

"But—I thought that he—You-Know-Who, that is—disappeared. Stopped, by that boy—that boy you girls go to school with now." He turned to Lara and Evette. "What was his name, now?”

"Harry Potter," Evette mumbled, pushing her potatoes around on her plate.

"Right, that Harry Potter!" said Mr. Wright quickly. "I thought he stopped You-Know-Who, all those years ago?”

Atlas shrugged. "No one knows, Dad. That's kind of the whole point.”

Mr. Wright fell silent, chewing nervously on a hangnail.

"Why are you here now?" Mrs. Ollivander asked after a few more minutes of tense silence. "And with no owl of warning?”

Atlas thought for a moment, rather fascinated by the way one of his peas rolled around his plate. He pushed it to and fro for several heavy seconds before sighing and saying, "I wasn't sure if I'd even be able to come back this summer. I didn't know for sure till this morning, and I'd already started traveling by then. I thought it would be a nice surprise, but that was probably the wishful thinking on my part." He winced apologetically, meeting his mother's eyes for one of the first times that night.

After dinner that evening, whether on purpose or not, Atlas made his rounds to every member of the house and spoke one-on-one. There was something oddly soothing about hearing the low voices of the two men of the family whispering on the front porch; it reminded Evette of summers as a child, back when Atlas was still at school and thought his dad was one of the coolest people to exist.

He visited Lizzy in her room, and she came back down ten minutes after he did, a skip in her step and a rather silly smile on her face. She sat at the kitchen table with a sketchpad and a pencil, and the relaxing sound of graphite on paper filled the cozy atmosphere.

Finally, Atlas slid open the back door beside Evette. She and Lara had been sitting on the floor, going over some old school textbooks and comparing them to the ones her mother had on the bookshelf. He beckoned for her to join him outside. She shot Lara a nervous glance, but of course he'd already caught Lara as she jogged upstairs to the bathroom, so Lara gave Evette an encouraging nod.

She got to her feet and followed him, allowing her older brother to slide the glass door shut behind them. They walked around the perimeter of the hedges, having gone nearly halfway before Atlas cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry I haven't been around for most of your time at school. You must be terribly angry with me."

Evette shook her head right away. "Not angry, just... I don't know. I knew I wouldn't get to see you while I was at school, but I didn't think that meant I'd never get to see you at all.”

"I know," he said softly. They kept walking. After half a dozen more steps, he asked abruptly, "Are you still learning to be a wandmaker? I know your O.W.L. year is coming up.”

Evette felt a bit warm at the reminder. "Er—yes, that's still what I want to do. I've been researching what the other wandmakers use, since Granduncle Garrick only uses three, and it's quite interesting. I think I'd like to possibly experiment with some new cores if he takes me on as his apprentice.”

Atlas barked out a humorless laugh. "He won't be thrilled with that.”

Evette smiled. "No, I don't expect he will be, but I'll treat it as a side project; it only becomes important if it works.”

Atlas nodded, laughing again, but this time with genuine amusement. He took a deep breath. "About not being around...I don't just mean not helping you with schoolwork and the like. I mean...you've grown up. I guess I thought you'd be my annoying kid sister forever, but you're most definitely not. I mean, you're already fifteen...Merlin's beard, I missed so much.”

And to Evette's shock, his voice broke. His broad shoulders slumped forward. He brought a hand up to cover his face. Unsure what to do, Evette just stood there, mouth agape, staring at her formidable big brother crumble before her.

"I'm so sorry, Evie.”

Every resentful, bitter thought she had held towards her brother bubbled under her skin; her parents' deteriorating relationship due to his disappearance; the impossible standard she could never quite reach at school; the loneliness she felt whenever she returned home for the holidays; the fact that she and Lizzy had never truly connected in the same way, and the bitterness Lizzy felt towards her older, magical siblings.

But at the sight of the brother she had so long idolized and worshipped breaking down in tears, all those thoughts slipped Evette's mind as easily as a leaf floated away downstream. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. He was well-muscled, and much bigger than she, but he leaned into her.

She patted his back, unsure exactly what to do. He hiccuped into her shoulder.

"You're here now," she heard herself saying, as though from very far away. "That's all that matters, Atlas. We forgive you."


	8. By Wandlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlas was gone for quite a while. Sometimes when we think things are too good to be true, they might just be so. But there's only one way to find out for good.

**II**   
_Losing Trust Is Easier Than Rebuilding It_

❈

It all felt so familiar but so foreign to Evette: the sight of Atlas, sleep-ruffled and reading the paper at the kitchen island in the morning, beside Lara flipping through an edition of _Witch Weekly._

These were two people that existed in very different realities to Evette. When Atlas had left her life, Lara had entered it, but here they were, co-existing—and getting on quite well, if she did say so herself.

She served up the eggs she had been frying over the gas stove and slid a plate to each of them. In perfect sync, they flipped a page of their respective reading materials and raised a forkful of egg to their mouths; chewed distractedly a few times; and swallowed.

Twin movements. Evette's head swam as a pair of _different_ twins forced their smiles to the forefront of her mind. She shook her head to clear it, turning back to the pan and putting it in the sink.

"Fudge's still being a bit useless about the whole Black situation, then," said Atlas after taking a long drink of his morning orange juice. He folded the morning's edition of the _Prophet_ and ran a hand haphazardly through his hair. "Any news in yours, Lara?”

Lara did a double-take at being directly addressed by him, but shook her head, closing the magazine and sliding it across the island. "Nothing there, but then again, _Witch Weekly_ isn't exactly where people go for news about mass-murderers." She couldn't help but shift a bit closer, poorly hiding the curiosity in her voice as she asked, "Have you heard anything? You know—through work?”

Evette smiled to herself. Atlas _never_ talked about work, and Lara was sure to learn that the hard way sooner or later—

"I haven't, but to be fair, that's not really my department," he said casually. "I wasn't even in the country when Black escaped, and I've had enough on my plate trying to quell You-Know-Who's supporters overseas, you know. I expect they would have wanted to have me searching for him, but I hadn't been granted a holiday in several years, so it was about time." He smiled shyly. "Besides, I may have told the higher-ups I was the best one qualified to protect my family from him and his lot, and they couldn't argue with that, could they?”

Evette's jaw dropped open, but she stayed quiet. This was perhaps the most shocking part of Atlas's unplanned return home, the way he talked so freely about his time as an Auror. Evette felt like she had heard him talk about work more in the week since he came home than he ever had before.

Ten days after Atlas returned home, Evette crept downstairs for a late night cup of water. She was careful to leave her bedroom door cracked behind her, not wanting to wake Lara by turning the lock. Not expecting to encounter anyone on the short trip down the stairs, she was startled to see Atlas sitting at the kitchen island, his wand lit and laying on the countertop next to him.

"Hullo, Evie," he said softly, smiling.

"What're you doing up?" she asked, a hand over her heart.

"I could ask you the same," he said, arching an eyebrow.

"What, is wanting a drink a crime?" She reached into a cabinet, pulling down a glass and filling it at the sink. She turned to lean against the island, facing her brother. He was shuffling through a stack of old school forms that seemed to permanently reside there.

"Is this your Hogsmeade form?" he asked quietly.

Evette felt a bit hot. "Er—yeah, it is.”

"But you're going into fifth year. Why's it not signed yet? Did they extend the year students could go down to the village?”

"Um, no, no they didn't. Mum and Dad just never got around to signing it. It's been a rough couple of summers. Dad's paper nearly went down, then I got distracted by Lara, then Mum had to leave for a while and nearly lost her job, and I just...never quite got around to it." She took a sip of water. "And now, with the whole Black business, I doubt they'd like the idea of me going down to the village unsupervised." 

Atlas pondered this, his eyes scanning over the slip. The parchment was rather worn and frayed from its years of sitting at the bottom of the pile. There was a juice stain along one edge. Then, in one fluid movement, he uncapped a pen and signed the bottom line, sliding the paper across the island to her.

She stared at him, eyes wide. "What're you doing?”

"Everyone needs a proper Hogsmeade experience," he said simply. "You haven't lived till you've seen Zonko's or Honeydukes. McGonagall always did like me, you show her that and you'll get to join all the rest of your friends in going." Something strangely nervous flickered across his face. "You have got friends, haven't you? Other than Lara?”

Evette couldn't help but laugh, but she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it. When she'd gathered herself, she whispered, "Of course I've got friends, Atlas. You've seen the pictures over my desk.”

"Tell me about them," Atlas insisted, almost wistfully.

Soon, he'd _Accio-_ d the photographs silently downstairs, and by the light of his wand, Evette was explaining each of them.

"You know Lara, and these two dorm with us—that's Angelina, that's Alicia—they're both on the Quidditch team, and they're really good.”

"Did you try out?" he asked eagerly; Quidditch was something Atlas was well-versed in.

Evette pulled a rather sour face. "Yeah, 'course. I've made reserve three years in a row, though.”

"Well, maybe this year's the year," Atlas said bracingly.

"Yeah," said Evette, much more doubtful than her brother, "maybe.... Anyways, this is Lee Jordan. He's one of the funniest kids in the year, and I bet he's gonna be a big radio star someday, he's got the personality for it. He commentates on the Quidditch matches, and he's really good at it.”

"Gryffindor, then?" Atlas asked.

"Of course," snorted Evette. "I mostly only hang out with the Gryffindors in my year, but of course there are a few exceptions." She moved on. "That's Carter Smalls. He's, like, one of the smartest people I know, but his mum's a Muggle and doesn't really understand our world, and that's who Carter spends his breaks with. It's impressive he's as high in the class as he is, if it were me I'd just totally let lose whenever I got back from holiday... and that's Anaya next to him, she's in Slytherin—“

She stopped when Atlas made a funny noise in the back of his throat. She looked up at him, already knowing what he was reacting to. "Honestly, it's just a bad lot a few years below us. That Malfoy brat has everyone too scared of his father for anyone to say anything against him, so the good ones get lost in all the bad ones. But Anaya's one of the good ones," she added firmly.

"Alright," said Atlas, faintly amused, but he nodded for her to keep going.

"She's funny, and whip-smart, too, but doesn't much like her classes. I think she has a crush on a Hufflepuff in our year, and I think the feeling's mutual, but they're both too awkward to do anything about it…."

"Hear, hear," Atlas mumbled, turning the photo to more closely examine it. "Who's that in the back?"

"Oh, that's Fred Weasley," Evette said quickly as the photograph form of Fred struck Anaya in the back of the head with a snowball; her hat fell off and she turned around to shout silently at him.

"Weasley?" asked Atlas quickly, lifting his head to look at Evette. "Any relation to Bill? Or Charlie? Or Percy?”

"Yeah, Charlie and Percy are his older brothers, and I assume Bill is, too, though I haven't heard anything about him—it's a big family, and it's not exactly a common name, is it?" she mused. "He's got a younger brother and a younger sister at Hogwarts, too.”

"Blimey, no shortage of company there, then," Atlas scoffed incredulously. "Bill was in my year. You've heard me say I wasn't made prefect or Head Boy because of that one perfect git in my dorm?" He tapped the photo of Fred, a dry smile on his face.

"That was Bill?" Evette gasped.

Atlas nodded. "He definitely deserved what he got from Dumbledore, but it didn't make it any less frustrating. Then Charlie went on and made himself prefect _and_ Captain of the Quidditch team…."

"Percy's prefect, too," Evette said with a soft giggle. "Wouldn't be surprised if he made Head Boy this year.”

"Bloody hell. A whole family of do-gooders, that one, I suppose." A thought suddenly occurred to Atlas. "It's your O.W.L. year, which means they choose prefects this year. Any chance this Fred kid has a shot to keep the streak going?”

Evette pushed down a laugh. "Definitely not. He spends most of his time running from prefects who want to put him in detention. He drives Percy absolutely mad.”

"Well, that's a relief, then," Atlas sighed. He set down that photo and pulled forward the most recent addition. "And this is Fred again, yeah? With that little sister you mentioned?”

For some reason, Evette found it incredibly funny that Atlas so easily assumed Fred and George were the same person. Shaking her head vigorously and pushing down a giggle, she said, "That's Fred's twin brother, George. And that's his sister, Ginny. She's going into her second year.”

"Wait, wait, wait—twin brother? _Another_ Weasley?" Atlas looked like he might faint.

Evette properly laughed this time. "Yeah, but don't worry, George won't be made prefect, either—though out of the two of them, he would have the tiniest advantage over Fred.”

"And why's that?”

"Because even though they're a matching set, Fred's more often than not the one to actually light the fireworks. George just hands him the lighter.”

Atlas shook his head slowly, staring at the photo of George. Then he picked up the smaller photo of Fred, squinting and trying to tell them apart. "You should really get a better photo of Fred for comparison, looks like you're playing favorites.”

Evette pulled a face but couldn't answer for some reason. Atlas gave up on trying to distinguish between the two twins and set down the photos, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. With a casual wave of his wand, the pictures folded themselves into a neat stack between Evette and Atlas on the island.

Evette couldn't help but gaze upon Atlas's wand. It was, after all, the very wand that she had grabbed as a toddler that made her mother realize that she'd inherited the family gift. Atlas caught her staring and smiled a little tiredly. "Remember what it is?”

"No," she said honestly, holding out a hand. "May I?”

He hesitated for the briefest of moments before handing it over. She turned the wand in her hands, feeling a warmth run down her spine. This wand, more than any other she had 'read,' felt familiar and welcoming. It seemed to rejoice at her touch, their hearts beating as one. She allowed her eyes to flutter shut, pouring all her focus into the elegant piece of wood that had made her brother one of the most powerful wizards she'd ever met.

Finally, she opened her eyes to look at him. "Sycamore," she said slowly, pausing between each word, "and dragon heartstring." She placed the wand flat against her palm. "Twelve inches even." She turned it in her hand so the hilt was directed towards him. He took it.

“Unyielding."

"Perfectly right," Atlas said in a very soft voice. "You've got a serious gift, Evie.”

"I know," she said in that same quiet tone.

There was an oddly heavy silence following this admission. Atlas was absently turning his still-lit wand over and over in his hands, casting odd shadows all around the kitchen. Evette watched him do this, unable to fully realize or understand the hollow pit in her gut. Atlas turned his wand again, and his face was plunged into shadow; all she could make out was a harsh glint in his eyes. Then the light came round again and his tired face was thrown into sharp relief once more.

Over the last few years, the only mental picture Evette had had of her brother was the idolized one she'd cemented in her mind as a toddler: sixteen-year-old Atlas in his Gryffindor robes, his Comet Two-Twenty over his shoulder, an easy and confident smile on his handsome face. His hair was messy in an attractively casual way, like he'd just come back from Quidditch practice.

This was not the image of Atlas that Evette was now facing. Now, Atlas looked distinctly more gaunt and haggard; he had a couple of scars across the left side of his face, one of which sliced right through his eyebrow; his posture was more hunched over, and he didn't ooze confidence as he once did; his youthful face was prematurely lined from stress, and even his hair seemed to have wilted a bit; his robes were nice enough, but they seemed to be loudly overcompensating for something.

Looking at her older brother sitting across from her, Evette was startled to realize that the word she would most likely use to describe him was _sad._

"What about you?" Atlas asked suddenly, looking up at her. His eyes used to be warm and inviting, a twinkle of mischief always present there. In this eerie lighting, however, they looked like cold chips of brownstone. 

"Huh?" Evette asked, her mind still racing.

"What's your wand?”

"It's upstairs, but it's, er, redwood and dragon heartstring, twelve and a quarter inches and supple." She repeated this like she'd memorized it—which, of course, she had.

A slow smile spread across Atlas's face, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. A flicker of unease rippled through Evette, but she pushed it down. That was ridiculous. This was Atlas she was talking about, after all. There was no one else she'd felt safer with growing up, not even her parents. Atlas had been her hero.

 _He still is,_ she thought bitterly, not permitting herself to doubt it in any way.

"So we've got the same core, then," he said quietly.

Something like a cold vice clamped around Evette's throat.

"Yeah," she managed to say, but her voice didn't quite sound like her own. "Yeah, I suppose we do."

❧

The hours began to slip into days and the days began to slip into weeks until finally, the last seven days of the summer holidays had descended upon the Ollivander-Wrights' home.

It was the twenty-fifth of August when Evette was reminded how soon she and Lara would be leaving the comfort of home and returning to her beloved castle. She was sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast at half past ten. 

Elizabeth walked over to the table in her dressing-gown; her eyebrows were knit and the tip of her tongue was poking between her lips in concentration as she served everyone some hash browns she'd made.

"Smells good, Lizzy," said Lara, and Atlas hummed in agreement.

"Tastes good, too," Evette said, her mouth already full. Elizabeth straightened up proudly, her cheeks coloring bit but she didn't quite meet her older sister's eyes.

"Salty enough?" Elizabeth asked Atlas nervously.

"Perfect," he said at once.

Elizabeth watched them all eat—and eat they did. For the next few moments, the only noises in the kitchen were the clinks of forks and rather unbecoming chewing noises. Atlas finished first, washing it down with a long drink of pumpkin juice and a standing ovation for his baby sister's first solo foray into making a meal for her family. She turned pink and said 'thank you' in a very quiet voice.

As Evette was scraping the last bits off her plate, Atlas said casually, "Those are school owls, aren't they?”

She jerked her head up to see what he was talking about, and sure enough, two tawny owls with letters in their beaks were quickly closing in on the window over the kitchen sink. Evette, who was closest, got to her feet and threw the window open just in time. The birds swooped in, one after the other, and alighted smoothly on the bottom posts of the staircase, ruffling their wings proudly and making muffled hooting noises.

Atlas was quick to slip some knuts into the leather pouches on their legs and take the letters from them. As soon as they'd arrived, they were gone, wide wingspans barely brushing the window frame as they soared into the blue morning sky.

"Coursebooks, I expect," said Atlas, walking back over to the table. "There's yours, Lara—and yours, Evie. A bit hefty, that." He arched an amused eyebrow at her as she took her letter. He was right, her envelope was rather thick and heavier than usual. 

"Maybe it's more books because of O.W.L.s," she said nervously.

Atlas made a humming noise in the back of his throat in reply, returning to his seat at the table.

"A lot of the same," Lara said, already reading through the required course books. "Shame all those Lockhart books are going to waste, they weren't exactly cheap, were they? Huh, _The Monster Book of Monsters,_ wonder what that's about...you alright, Evie?”

Evette had fallen oddly silent. Atlas smiled into his cup, but kept his eyes down. For the third time, Evette read over the second letter she had received in her envelope, this one on rather nice parchment and in scarlet ink.

_To: Miss Evette Ollivander-Wright  
The Third Story Bedroom  
The Wand's Cap  
Gloucestershire _

_Dear Miss Ollivander-Wright,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to serve as Prefect for Gryffindor House. Your school record shows that you have exhibited academic integrity, the ability to lead others, and the bravery that Gryffindors have long been lauded for._

_We are certain that you will continue to be a model for your peers and will take your new responsibilities seriously. Enclosed please find your Prefect's Badge, which should be worn on your school robes at all times. Congratulations!_

_Sincerely,_   
_Minerva McGonagall_   
_Head of Gryffindor House_

Evette couldn't quite believe it. She slowly set down the letter, turned her envelope over, and let the small metal shield fall into her palm. Taking it between two gently shaking fingers, she looked at it: scarlet as Atlas's Quidditch robes and with the gold Gryffindor lion, a large P sitting on top of it.

"I knew it.”

Evette started a bit; she'd forgotten there were others in the room. Even if Elizabeth was sulking rather venomously by the sink, Evette felt like a warm bubble of joy was threatening to erupt out of her. It was Atlas who had spoken. He was still sitting, shaking his head very slowly with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"Well, I knew it wouldn't be me," Lara said easily. She had sat down on the arm of the couch with her letter, a faintly amused expression on her face. "Not ever since Snape caught me copying the answers out of Dawn's sister's textbook and took all those points. You really were the only option.”

Evette still couldn't quite form words. She glanced back down at the badge, her throat rather dry.

"Well, toss it here, then," Lara pushed. Evette did so. Lara caught it easily, turning it this way and that in the light before turning towards Atlas. He held his hands out, and she tossed it his way. Evette wanted to ask them to be more gentle with it, but she bit her tongue; she was determined not to be one of _those_ prefects.

Atlas let out a low whistle, examining the badge in the same way Lara had before him. "Never did get my hands on one of my own," he said. Was that a trace of resentment in his voice? "Well done, sis." He turned in his seat. "Aren't you gonna congratulate Evie, Lizzy?”

Evette suddenly paled, that warmth receding as quickly as it had bubbled up. "No, Atlas, don't, it's really okay—“

But Elizabeth had already crossly thrown the pan she had been meticulously scrubbing down into the sink, sniffed loudly, and stormed away upstairs. Atlas looked between the other girls, bewildered. Lara was pushing down a laugh, but Evette folded her arms.

"She always hates when I get my letter, surely you've picked up on that," Evette snapped. "Imagine how hard it must be for her to be so _normal_ all the time. And would you put your wand away when she's around?”

"I'm not going to hide it just because she hasn't got it," Atlas said smoothly, chucking the badge back her way. "Anyways, Mum'll be thrilled enough. Wait till she finds out.”

"Wait till Mum finds out what? Why exactly your sister just slammed her bedroom door before eleven-thirty on a Wednesday?”

Mrs. Ollivander had just arrived on the first landing, an almost amused curve to her mouth. She made it down the last steps and approached the French press that Evette had prepared for her.

"Evie's been made prefect, Mrs. Ollivander," Lara said promptly, pointing an accusatory finger across the room towards Evette, who blustered rather uselessly, feeling her cheeks go warm.

Mrs. Ollivander, dressed in her work things, took a few moments to process this bit of information. She calmly finished pouring herself a cup of coffee, so that for a few moments, Evette thought she hadn't heard. Then she saw her mother's eyes fly open and she gasped, spinning around and lifting a hand to her mouth, her eyes shining as they landed on Evette—or more specifically, on the badge in Evette's hand.

"Oh—Evie, is it true? Prefect?”

Evette held up the letter from McGonagall, blushing and smiling in spite of herself. "Got it right here in writing and everything.”

"Merlin's beard—that's _wonderful,_ darling!" gushed Mrs. Ollivander, rushing over to her daughter and enveloping her in a tight hug. "I never doubted it, of course, I always had my hopes—I came close at school, but never quite made it—my darling daughter, _prefect—_ oh, everyone at the office will be so excited—this calls for a celebration!”

"Alright, alright, Mum," Evette mumbled, disentangling herself from her mother's overwhelming embrace. She tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing someone would crack a window or something so she wouldn't feel so hot.

"Tonight, we'll have a lovely little dinner in your honor!" Mrs. Ollivander insisted, holding Evette by the shoulders. "Name anything you want and I'll pick it up on the way home from work.”

While Evette and Lara planned out the evening's menu and Mrs. Ollivander wrote it down on a spare napkin, Atlas silently excused himself. He slipped his wand into his pocket and climbed the three flights of stairs to his old bedroom, his light-hearted smile dropping as soon as he was out of sight, replaced with a look of steely frustration.

Elizabeth snapped her bedroom door shut as he passed, unnerved by the rather frightening expression on her older brother's face.

❧

They did indeed hold a celebratory dinner that night. Mrs. Ollivander magicked up a banner across the kitchen cupboards that read _Evette the Gryffindor Prefect_ and her father gifted her a very nice set of new quills and ink. 

The highlight of the night was probably as Evette sat alone in the den, twirling one of the new quills. She heard footsteps approaching, and she looked up, expecting to see Lara or even her father, but was surprised to see Elizabeth, her sketchbook grasped tight in her hands.

"Hi," said Evette nervously; she always felt like she was walking on eggshells around Elizabeth the day her Hogwarts owls would arrive, but especially this year, since the owl had caused such a ruckus in her honor.

"Congratulations," Elizabeth said without greeting. "I dunno if it's different at your school, but I know prefect's a big deal, no matter what. So I made you this." And she pulled out a loose page from her sketchbook and thrust it towards Evette.

At a loss for words, Evette took the page. She was stunned to see it was a rather detailed drawing of herself in her Hogwarts robes; her hair was done up in a messy bun with her wand pushed through it and the Evette on the page looked far prettier than the Evette on the couch had ever felt.

After taking in the sight, Evette stood up and pulled Elizabeth into a hug. “I love it, Lizzy. Thank you.”

Before Elizabeth could answer, a familiar voice said, "Well, this is very touching. Scram, runt, it's my turn alone with Evie.”

Atlas ruffled Elizabeth's hair so he knew she was joking. She managed half a smile, turning and quickly returning to the kitchen, where Mr. Wright was now singing along loudly to a Celestina Warbeck song blaring over the Wizarding Wireless Network, much the amusement of his wife and Lara.

Atlas was standing rather shyly, his hands folded behind his back. Evette arched a curious eyebrow at him. He rocked back and forth onto the balls of his feet.

"What's gotten into you?" she asked, unable to push down the grin on her face. "Out with it, then!”

"It's no small feat, prefect," he started pompously.

"Oh, none of that," Evette quickly interrupted. "I've had enough speeches to last me a lifetime now. What have you got behind your back?”

"Am I that transparent?" Atlas's face fell, but he recovered quickly. "I debated leaving your gift just as the Hogsmeade slip and being a bit petty, but then again, what kind of brother would I be if I did? Besides, I've got several years to make up for. I brought this with me from overseas, it seems like the type of thing you'd find interesting.”

And he handed her a book.

It was very handsome—black leather, bound with the kind of glue that crackled when you turned a page. Engraved in the dark cover in gold lettering it read, _Wand Woods and Cores of the South Americas: A Comprehensive Guide._

Evette's mouth formed silent shapes, and she realized that there was a rather uncomfortable lump sitting in her throat. She finally looked up at Atlas, blinking hard. He smiled nervously, obviously unsure of how she'd react to the gift.

It struck her at that exact moment that this was real. Atlas was really home, and he had been for over a week. It wasn't a dream. It had really been him who played Keeper with Lara and Evette in the backyard, he was the one who made Calliope Ollivander dinner after she had had a late night at the office, he was the one who talked casually with Mark Wright over the contents of the morning newspaper.

Atlas was home, and he had given her a gift.

Before she'd realized it had happened, Evette was on her feet and had thrown her arms around her brother, sniffling rather pitifully.

"Do you like it, then?" he asked weakly, patting her back awkwardly.

"I love it," she sighed. "Thank you, Atlas.”

"Well, it wasn't much, it seemed the obvious choice, given your interests and all—“

"I don't mean for the book.”

“Oh."

Atlas was silent, processing her words. He still stood like he wasn't entirely sure how to hug her, like he'd forgotten, but Evette didn't release him. After several more painful moments, his arms came up tighter round her. He tucked his head lower, against her shoulder, and Evette exhaled shakily. She had idolized Atlas; he had been her best friend, her hero, her role model. But it had been so long since she'd touched him, it felt altogether new and unusual.

But as the siblings held each other, it was like the wall of ice separating their memories of how to be around one another slowly melted, and they did too, folding easily into one another's arms. It was such a natural feeling, it was shocking it had taken this long to remember it.

"You're welcome," Atlas finally said, and Evette knew she wasn't imagining the quaver in his voice.


	9. Midnight Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of summer holidays is nearly upon the Ollivander-Wright household, though before Evette can return to the bliss of Hogwarts, she has over a week to clean up her things, arrange plans, and talk to her brother. But her brother has other people to talk to, and much can happen in a week.

**III  
** _Eavesdropping's a Nasty Habit_

❈

"You've got an owl, Evie," said Atlas as Evette arrived in the downstairs kitchen for breakfast two days later. She easily slid onto a stool beside him at the island, and he threw a casual arm around her neck, tousling her hair before releasing her.

"Good morning to you, too," Evette replied, taking the letter from him and wasting no time in tearing it open with her finger. She didn't even bother to check who had sent it—there was only really one person sending her letters this summer.

Before she could confirm her suspicion, however, Elizabeth had come pounding down the stairs with Lara hot on her heels, the two girls giggling madly. As Elizabeth skidded to a halt across the island from Evette, she instantly zeroed in on the folded parchment in Evette's hands.

"Whazzat?" Lara asked, out of breath, already stuffing half a banana into her mouth. She pointed the remaining half of the banana at Evette's letter.

Elizabeth glanced back and forth between Evette and Lara before saying rather snidely, "Who keeps writing _you?_ Lara's already here!”

"Nobody," Evette said, maybe too quickly.

Lara's eyes lit up and she smiled hugely around her stuffed cheeks, but luckily, her mouth was too full to properly form words, so she just sputtered grossly for several moments before crossing her arms and beginning to properly chew, looking a bit put-out.

Atlas casually pulled the empty envelope into his lap, passing it to Evette discreetly under the table. She sent him a thankful look and he dipped his head, swirling his spoon round in his cereal bowl.

Evette excused herself quickly, Lara's gaze hot as coals on the back of her head, and fell into her favorite armchair in the den, where she could be alone and away from prying eyes.

She turned over the envelope, instantly recognizing the rather messy, slanting script addressed unmistakably to _Evette Ollie-Wright._ She smiled to herself, eagerly unfolding the letter, then pausing, not wanting to see _too_ eager.

"Bloody hell, Evette, it's not like he's actually here," she muttered embarrassedly to herself, slapping her palm down her face. "Who's going to make fun of you? _Fred?”_

So she unfolded the letter—small, cramped writing, completely covering the back and the front—and began to read. 

The majority of the letter was just a recounting of various shenanigans Fred and George had embarked on in their last week in Egypt, as well as the news that they had finally returned home. Their trip back to England was full of misplaced luggage, Ginny crying, Percy shouting himself hoarse, and Mrs. Weasley nearly pulling her hair out.

 _As you'd expect, Fred and I were of course perfect little angels. It was everyone else causing problems,_ George wrote. _Would you believe it if I told you that Charlie tried to smuggle an Egyptian Ridgetail back into London? Dad didn't. That was a fun conversation. I'd tell you all about it, but nothing short of a full-out reenactment does it justice. Remind me when I see you next._

_Speaking of which, we'll be in Diagon Alley the day before term starts if you and yours happen to find yourselves in the area. I think the plan is to stay the night at the Leaky Cauldron and then go to King's Cross with Harry the next morning. I'm sure everyone would be excited to see you (and Lara), but it’s understandable if it's too short a notice. Also wouldn't blame you for wanting to avoid the new Big-Headed Boy. Percy's been nothing short of intolerable since his fancy new badge arrived._

_Hope YOU haven't got the prefect badge, but if you have (as I expect), congratulations, I suppose. I reckon you'll be a bit more tolerable than my darling brother dearest was. Just don't get too much bigger of an ego, I worry you're much too small to handle any more. You may burst, and Fred and I would be quite sorry about it, but we'd certainly speak at your funeral. "Here lies Evie Ollie, she was simply too gifted for her own good…."_

_Anyways, it's quite nice to be back. Looking forward to returning to school, though I do miss the sunshine already. Let me know if we'll be seeing you before term, but if not, I'll make sure to nag you on the Express. Hope all is well with the Ollivander-Wrights! Give Lara our best, or at least our acknowledgements._

_Don't keep me waiting,  
George._

Once she'd reached the end of the letter, Evette stayed where she was, legs drawn up to her chest. She turned the parchment over and read it all over again, lingering on those last few paragraphs.

_Don't keep me waiting…._

She took in a deep breath, and realized she was smiling rather painfully. When had that happened? She tried to relax her face muscles and found it quite difficult. After a few more moments, she was able to return her expression to what she assumed was a neutral one, but it still felt slightly off. Shaking herself, she folded the letter, slipped it gently back into its envelope, and returned to the kitchen.

"And here she is now," said Elizabeth quickly, being the first one to see Evette.

"Speak of the devil," said Mr. Wright, emitting a low whistle. He was dressed for work in a nice button-up and slacks, and was nursing a cup of coffee. Behind him, Mrs. Ollivander was pouring creamer into her own cup, looking rather tired but sharp in her work robes.

"Were you talking about me?" Evette asked, taking her seat next to Atlas once more. 

"Lizzy told them you got a letter," said Lara, leaning against the counter with her hands around her own cup of morning tea. 

"And Lara said it was probably from a boy," Elizabeth retorted, shooting Lara a sharp glare.

"Did not!" Lara protested, her mouth dropping open. Then she glanced abashedly at Evette and mumbled into her cup, "I said it was probably from George.”

“Who’s George?” Mr. Wright asked curiously, looking at Evette over the top of his mug. His tone was mild enough, but given the choice, Evette would have preferred her father be eased into this topic of conversation a much different way.

She shot Lara a furious glare, and her best friend had the decency to look embarrassed. Elizabeth snickered lightly, shoving Lara with her shoulder.

“A friend from school,” Evette snapped, her eyes still on Lara, “that’s all. You’ve met him, Dad.”

“You have?” said Mrs. Ollivander sharply, speaking up for the first time and turning to look at her husband, absently stirring a small spoon round in her coffee.

Mr. Wright had the distinct appearance of one who’d been backed into a corner without quite noticing. He looked wildly back and forth between his wife, Evette, and Lara, before turning his wide and bespectacled eyes on Evette. “Have I?” he asked in a beleaguered sort of voice.

“Yes, at Diagon Alley, last year,” she explained less patiently than she probably should have. “He was the red-head with the twin. And he’s invited Lara and I to meet up in Diagon Alley with them next week, only now she’s gone and made it all weird.”

“Oh, you know what,” Mr. Wright said with the light of realization flickering in his eyes, “now that you mention, I do remember that. Rather charming pair of blokes, Calliope, truly.”

Mrs. Ollivander’s expression was nearly impossible to read. Rather than looking at her daughter or husband, she was looking at the envelope in Evette’s hands.

“Well?” Evette said testily after an awkward few moments of silence.

“Well, what?” Mr. Wright asked right back, looking bemused.

“Can we go?” Evette pushed.

“You didn’t even ask, Evie,” Atlas said, tipping his head back to drink the milk dregs at the bottom of his bowl.

“I figured it was implied,” she replied curtly before facing her parents. “They’re going to be in Diagon Alley with their family and Harry Potter the last day before term, and they’ll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron and going to King’s Cross the next morning, and I was going to butter you up a bit more before I asked, but now that idea’s gone out the window, I suppose, and what I want to ask is—can we hold off our trip and go the day they’ll be there, this Tuesday?”

A dull silence followed this. Feeling awkward, Evette set down the letter and crossed over to the fruit bowl, beginning to cut an apple into slices and shove them hungrily into her mouth.

When no one spoke for several more moments, Evette turned to see her parents exchanging infuriatingly amused expressions. Atlas had his eyes respectfully downwards, and he finally slid off his stool and walked over to the sink to rinse out his bowl. Lara and Elizabeth were smirking at one another.

Swallowing hard, she blurted for the second time, _“Well?”_

“I’ve got to go to work,” sighed Mrs. Ollivander, patting her husband on the hand. “You handle this one, love.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and Disapparated with a resounding _crack._

As if on some unspoken signal, Lara and Evette both swooped around to either side of Mr. Wright, jostling his arm so badly he slopped coffee onto the counter. He looked at them with wide eyes.

“Can we, can we, sir?” Lara asked eagerly.

“I dunno, Evie,” Mr. Wright said cautiously. “Your mother’s got to work, and you know how nervous she is about the whole Sirius Black situation… she’d be a lot more comfortable if we went this weekend, when she could escort you herself—god knows I won’t be any use in defending you from some dark wizard.”

“I could go with them,” said Atlas abruptly, resting his lower back against the sink and facing the girls. “I’ll ‘escort’ them, and spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron with them and make sure they’re safe. I really don’t mind; I haven’t been to Diagon Alley in ages.”

Lara and Evette looked at each other, excitement sparking on their faces, before looking to Mr. Wright, hanging avidly on each breath, waiting for his decision.

Atlas stepped up behind his father, leaning down with a roguish smirk. “Go on, then, Dad,” he said cheekily.

“Alright, fine!” sighed Mr. Wright, pushing off from the counter and going over to the coat rack in the foyer. “That’s fine with me, so long as you don’t let them out of your sight, Atlas. And make sure your rooms at the inn are right near one another, and Floo in the evening to let us know everything’s alright. Alright?” He added, throwing on his large work coat and fixing a sharp gaze onto Atlas.

“I solemnly swear, no harm will come to them while under my care,” Atlas said, puffing up his chest and raising one hand in the air to make an oath of sorts.

Mr. Wright tried to look stern, but he couldn’t do it. Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself, wished them a pleasant day and said he’d see them at dinner, grabbed his keys, and left. As soon as he was gone, Lara and Evette threw their arms around Atlas, each kissing him on the cheek. When he shoved them off with a disgusted grunt, even Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh.

❧

The last few days of the summer holidays slipped by almost frighteningly fast. Perhaps the main reason for this was Atlas’s very active role in Evette’s daily life. He helped her and Lara finish their summer homework, made lunch for all three of the girls, and played Quidditch most afternoons.

The only thing nagging at Evette’s mind was when she would see Atlas sitting by himself in the evenings, or right after they’d eaten lunch, and he didn’t think anyone was watching. He would sit, head bowed, hands folded, eyebrows knit in deep concentration. His breaths were shaky and deep as though his mind was racing a million miles an hour.

Evette could never bring herself to say anything to him when she saw him like this, and anyway, he would very quickly end these fits of solemnity and catch her watching him. He’d flash that iconic Atlas Ollivander-Wright smile, and she’d wonder if maybe he wasn’t actually as upset as she’d thought, and maybe she was just over-exaggerating things in her mind.

The Monday before term was taken over by Lara and Evette’s frantic attempts to get their school things packed up. Even though Lara had only been there for a few weeks, her belongings seemed to have been scattered far and wide across all four stories of the Ollivander-Wrights’s home.

It seemed every time they thought they were done, they’d jump to their feet and shout, “But where is my Charms book?” and the whole process would start from the beginning as they dug frantically through their trunks to try and find the misplaced item.

Lara fell asleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow at half past ten that evening, but Evette found herself tossing and turning restlessly for nearly forty-five minutes. Finally, she had a sudden worry that she had misplaced her telescope, and was fairly certain she’d left it on the sofa downstairs, and yes, she rather thought she should go and double-check, just to be safe….

Very quietly, she climbed out of bed, tiptoed past Lara asleep on her trundle bed, slipped out onto the landing, and made her way downstairs.

Sure enough, the moonlight falling through the sitting room window revealed a soft glint on the couch cushions, and Evette quickly picked up her telescope, turning to head back upstairs.

It was on the first floor landing when she heard voices. She paused, and noticed that Atlas’s bedroom door was cracked, the faintest bit of light spilling onto the wood-paneled floor.

“…missed you, especially, you know? And I’ve had this idea I want to run by you…” came Atlas’s soft voice.

Evette stepped closer, taking care not to let the floor creak too egregiously under her feet.

“Is that so? I’m touched, Strawtop.” That would be her father, a trace of amusement in his voice as he used Atlas’s childhood nickname. “And what’s this idea of yours?”

“I just thought maybe… well, there’s this Muggle thing—I actually don’t know if it’s just a Muggle thing, but I certainly haven’t heard many wizards doing it, anyway—”

“Spit it out, Atlas, good lord,” sighed Mr. Wright, and Evette could imagine her father’s amused head shake.

Evette stepped closer still until she could peer through the crack in the door. Atlas was sitting on the edge his bed, his room still decorated in Gryffindor and Wimborne Wasps memorabilia from his time at Hogwarts. Mr. Wright’s back was to Evette, so she could only see his pinstriped pajama pants, slippers, and robe.

Atlas was a bit flushed and struggled to meet his father’s eyes. “I only thought—well—how would you like to go on a camping trip? Just the two of us? For a month or two?”

Mr. Wright had seemed to puff up a bit at Atlas’s first couple sentences, but at the final one, he positively deflated. “A _month_ or two? Good heavens, Atlas!”

“I only thought—”

“No, I really don’t think you did,” Mr. Wright snapped, and Evette was startled to realize that her father was _angry._ Her father was _never_ angry. “Just the two of us? Pack up our things and leave for months? And what about your mother? And Elizabeth?”

Atlas tried to mumble something about a “guys’ trip.” Mr. Wright gave a quiet, derisive laugh.

“Honestly, I thought those years abroad had addled your senses, and now I know I was right. Have you gone quite mad, Atlas? After all these years—your poor mother nearly losing her head with worry—and you just want to up and go?”

“No, of course not—”

“I’d expected better of you, though god knows why—years with not so much as a letter, I’m not sure how I ever thought your return would mean anything but trouble from the family—”

“Dad, would let me speak!?” exploded Atlas before sucking in a sharp breath, obviously unprepared by his own outburst. When Mr. Wright stayed quiet, Atlas went on, much quieter, “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to tell you how sorry I am, other than to quit my job—”

“That’d be a good start.”

Atlas and Mr. Wright just stared at one another, and Evette worried they’d hear her heart pounding in her chest. She watched nervously as Atlas got slowly to his feet, his expression deadly serious, and was it just her imagination or was his hand inching towards his waistband, where she knew he’d be keeping his wand…?

“You want me… after everything I’ve given up for this… after everything I’ve had to do… no. You’ll never understand, _Dad.”_ He said it scathingly, like it was the worst insult he could think of. “You aren’t one of us, not really. You’ll never—Evette?”

She stumbled back from the doorway as though scalded. Atlas’s eyes had landed on her, and the fire in them had instantly sputtered out as his eyebrows knit and his face dropped. She didn’t wait for either of them to come out on the landing, as she could hear both of them moving to do.

Evette turned and fled, not much caring if she woke up Elizabeth, running past her bedroom on the second story, climbing that last flight of stairs, and slipping into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She heard footsteps on the landing outside, but they paused outside her door. A rapid-fire, hushed conversation, too quiet to properly make out—then they were gone.

“Evie?”

Lara was stirring faintly, her voice thick with sleep.

Evette slid back into bed, saying sternly, “Go back to sleep, Lara.” Within minutes Lara’s breathing had slowed and deepened again, suggesting she’d done as Evette told her.

As the hours passed, and dawn light began to fill the bedroom, Evette wished with all her heart she had been able to sleep as easily and forget what she’d heard downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your lovely comments, they mean the WORLD to me!! i know that there's much more going on in this fic than just loving on george (don't worry, there'll be PLENTY of that later), but it's allll relevant, we gotta establish evette's world before it all comes falling down. i love hearing your theories. can neither confirm nor deny, you'll just have to wait and see ;)
> 
> thanks for bearing with me through this early slog of exposition, next chapter should be a goodun! stay safe, stay warm as winter arrives, and see you next wednesday <3


	10. Return to Diagon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diagon Alley is all hustle and bustle the day before term starts, but the twins are nowhere to be found.

**IV**   
_Tracking the Twins_

❈

Mr. Wright and Atlas had the decency to pretend the argument hadn’t happened when the whole family gathered around the fireplace the next morning with Evette and Lara’s luggage. Mrs. Ollivander kissed the girls goodbye on her way out the door, wished them a good term, and Disapparated before Evette had finished her toast.

Mr. Wright had decided to take the day off of work and accompany the girls for the trip, just to expedite the shopping process. To Evette’s surprise, Elizabeth came downstairs to watch them leave.

“See you, Lizzy,” Evette said, stepping up to the fireplace with Atlas.

“See you,” said Elizabeth, swinging her legs a bit from her seat up on the kitchen island. “Have a good term.”

“And you.”

Atlas stepped past the grill, toting Evette’s trunk, threw down his pinch of Floo powder, and said clearly, “The Leaky Cauldron!” In a flash of bright green flame, he was gone.

“You next, little star,” Mr. Wright told Evette gentle, smiling warmly.

Something seemed to wrap around her heart when he said that, but she ignored it. Her father hadn’t called her _little star_ since she was about ten, but she was surprised to find that she didn’t mind it; on the contrary, she felt like she was suddenly full of warm bubbles. She scattered her Floo powder, said, “The Leaky Cauldron!” and began to spin like a top.

The last thing she saw was Lara stepping closer to the grate, her face bright and excited.

With a sudden jolt, Evette came to a halt and spilled out into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron inn and pub. She coughed a bit, waving her hand in front of her face to clear away the ash that had left the fireplace with her.

Atlas caught her and steadied her with an amused smile. “Always a bit unsettling, isn’t it?” he asked.

Evette nodded, not trusting herself to speak without devolving into another hacking fit.

“Here, we might as well take your things upstairs while we wait,” Atlas said, gesturing towards her trunk.

Evette managed to shake her head. “Lara and I will be sharing, it doesn’t make sense to take two trips. She’ll be right in.”

Right on cue, the fireplace roared to life behind them and Lara staggered out with her trunk, coughing just as badly as Evette had. Evette caught a glimpse of Tom the landlord keeping a watchful eye on his fireplace, but he offered a kind enough smile when he saw her watching.

As Lara recovered from the journey, Evette took the moment to observe their surroundings. The taproom was not as busy as she’d seen it on other trips, but then again, it was rather early in the morning.

With a final roar, Mr. Wright staggered out of the fireplace, looking around rather confusedly. After all this time, he never did quite get used to the magical world he’d married into.

“Alright—er—upstairs, then?” Atlas asked, almost asking permission from his father, something he hadn’t had to do in a very long time.

“Lead on,” Mr. Wright nodded.

It was easy enough to find their rooms that Atlas had booked a few days before. Sure enough, his and the girls’s were right next to one another on the second floor—his with a brass 7 on the door, theirs with an 8.

Evette and Lara quickly set down their things, each claiming a twin bed, and took a few moments to look around the room. Atlas knocked on their open door and told them he’d be waiting downstairs with Mr. Wright, and that there was no rush.

Lara sat on the bed, saying appraisingly, “You know, I’ve never actually stayed here. The rooms are quite nice!”

Evette was examining her reflection in the mirror. She’d tied back her hair with a blue ribbon today so that it was out of her face but still hung loose, cascading past her shoulders. She made sure to check her teeth, unsure why she was feeling a bit insecure and fussy about her appearance.

“You look _fine,_ Evie,” said Lara from behind her, obviously picking up on her best friend’s nerves.

“Easy for you to say,” Evette fretted, wringing her hands. “Look at you!”

Lara rolled her eyes, reclining on the bed. She was wearing light blue jeans that seemed to magically fit her perfectly and a simple white long-sleeve shirt tucked in, but she somehow made it look elegant. It almost didn’t seem fair.

As Evette primped and preened her own outfit (a light pink turtleneck tucked into a midnight blue pleated skirt), Lara opened each of their trunks and pulled out their Hogwarts cloaks. After clasping on her own, she came up behind Evette in the mirror, adjusting her hair and smoothing out the shoulders of her jumper. Then she reached around, clasping the cloak round her throat and taking her by the shoulders, spinning her around so she couldn’t look at her reflection any longer.

“You look _lovely,”_ she said seriously, still holding Evette by the shoulders. “And honestly—it’s George Weasley, he’ll probably be in that same jumper and ratty pair of jeans as ever.”

Evette felt rather warm in the face. “This isn’t—I don’t—he’s not— _honestly,_ I couldn’t give a damn what George—”

“Yes, yes, whatever,” sighed Lara, turning and marching Evette from the room. “Come on, now, Atlas and your dad will be waiting.”

No sooner had they left their room and locked the door behind them, the door across the way opened up and Evette realized she’d come face to face with Harry Potter himself.

“Oh—sorry,” he mumbled politely, scooting back out of the way to let them pass.

“Don’t be silly, you first,” insisted Evette. When he continued to balk, she reached forward rather boldly and pulled him into the hall by his sleeve, nudging him gently towards the stairs. “We’re all heading the same way, I expect.”

“Er—thanks,” he said, not looking her in the eye. As the three of them began to walk towards the end of the corridor, he glanced over his shoulder and said, “You’re in Gryffindor too, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?” laughed Lara gently. “Was it the Gryffindor patches on our cloaks?”

Harry turned to face forward once more, but Evette could see his ears turn a bit pink.

“Yeah, we are,” Evette said, trying not to smile. “Fifth years. I’m Evette, that’s Lara.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. They finally landed back in the main taproom, where they saw Atlas and Mr. Wright standing to the side of the staircase, waiting.

“Well—nice to meet you,” Harry said politely, offering a little wave. “See you at school.”

“See you,” Evette said easily, coming to a halt beside her family, Lara stopping on her other side. Evette wasn’t blind to the way Atlas seemed to almost hungrily watch Harry cross the room and leave through the back door.

“That’s Harry Potter, isn’t it?” He was obviously trying for a casual tone, but it didn’t come off that way.

“Yeah, it is,” Evette said. “He’s a couple years below us. Nice chap from what I’ve seen. A bit awkward, though.”

“Well, he’s had a rough go of it,” Lara said.

“True enough,” snorted Atlas, finally tearing his gaze from the door Harry had left through. “Shall we, then?”

And he led the way after Harry, into the bin yard, through the brick wall, and into Diagon Alley itself.

❧

Lara and Evette had an easy enough time finding everything they needed for their upcoming year, which a considerably heavier load due to the rigorousness of their end-of-year O.W.L.s.

As it was the last day before term, there were plenty of other classmates scrambling to do a bit of last-minute shopping. Outside Gringotts, they crossed paths with Cedric Diggory, who Evette hadn’t spoken to since that day in the library before Christmas last year. He went a bit pink at the sight of her and smiled awkwardly; Evette ushered her family on rather hurriedly, not fancying a chat. Lara found this very amusing.

They also encountered Dawn Derriweather, their dorm-mate, outside of the Magical Menagerie with her sister Dina, who would be going into her seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Dawn excitedly pulled the girls aside to tell them all about her family trip to New York a few weeks back, and how different the wizarding community was over there compared to here. The girls were both rather relieved when Dina finally pulled her sister farther down the street.

The group stepped inside Gambol and Japes Joke Shop (keeping a hopeful eye out for a certain pair of red-headed twins), but weren’t able to find their query. Upon leaving the store, they nearly collided with a young woman and even younger boy who Evette quickly recognized as Moises Jacobsen, meaning the young woman he was with—

“Mum, it’s alright,” he mumbled quietly as she shot the girls a withering glare.

“Don’t you two have any guardians or escorts?” she asked sharply.

“Yes, ma’am, they’re just back there,” Evette said, feeling a bit awkward and shuffling out of the doorway.

“Alright, Moises?” Lara asked brightly, obviously hoping to steer the conversation in a bit more of a friendly direction. “Had a good holiday?”

Before Moises could answer, his mother had placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Would have been better if that blasted Ministry could pull their heads out of their arses long enough to buckle down and find that Sirius Black chap!” she said savagely. “I mean, honestly—any parent would be absolutely barking to let their child just wander about on their own while he’s still at large. If I had it up to me—”

“Alright, Josie?” said Atlas, appearing suddenly behind Evette and Lara. He had his chin raised testily, staring coolly down at Moises’s mother.

She started, looking up at him with wide eyes. Finally, she found her voice and said stiffly, “Well, then. Glad to see you’re keeping an eye on them, Atlas. Come on, Moises, I’m eager to get you home.”

Moises cast the girls an apologetic look over his shoulder as his mother steered him sharply around them and back up the alley, towards the Leaky Cauldron. Evette looked up at her brother. “You know Moises’s mum?”

He nodded curtly. “Josie Jacobsen. She loves to cause a ruckus for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, that one. Constantly hounding us for not doing a good enough job, asking us if we’ve considered adopting the _Muggle_ way of handling things—”

“She’s a Muggle?” Lara asked curiously, craning her neck to watch Josie escort her son.

Atlas shook his head. “Muggle-born, but she had Moises when she was very young. She can be a bit overbearing—as you saw—and that protectiveness over her son seems to carry into other aspects of her life. Ah, there’s Dad—come on, let’s keep moving, we’ve got just about everything, haven’t we? I wanted to stop by Quality Quidditch Supplies….”

As it turned out, it was rather difficult to get into Quality Quidditch Supplies due to the throng of people ogling at the new Firebolt display in the window. The group of four managed to squeeze past and get inside, where Evette and Lara drifted over to the _interior_ Firebolt display.

To their surprise, they recognized two girls standing near the high-end broomstick. When Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet recognized Lara and Evette, they squealed excitedly and pulled them into a rather energetic group hug.

Once greetings were exchanged, Evette gestured towards the Firebolt and asked, “How much is this, anyway?”

Alicia pointed at the label. “‘Price on request.’ Can’t be cheap, though, can it?”

“I hear Ireland’s already ordered a set for the team,” Angelina said, her eyes sparkling. “Bet they’ll get to the Quidditch Cup with a whole lot of those.”

“I’d like to see that,” Evette sighed wistfully.

“We’re already saving up for tickets,” Angelina went on. “It’s rumored that next year it’s gonna be held here, in England. If it is, we’ve got to go.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Evette gasped, but she never got to hear Angelina’s answer as she felt someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Atlas holding a very long object wrapped in brown paper.

“All good to go?” asked Evette.

Atlas laughed at that, thrusting the package into her hands. She exchanged confused glances with Lara, who helped her remove the brown paper. Her heart thudded painfully when she realized she was holding a very dark wooden broomstick with a neat, precisely trimmed tail. Engraved in gold on the handle were the words _Nimbus 2001._

She looked up at Atlas. “What’s this, then?”

He shuffled awkwardly. “Well, I know it’s no Firebolt—” he gestured towards the display behind them “—but consider it a combination of four missed birthdays, yeah?”

“Wait—for me?”

He barked out another sharp laugh, patting her on the shoulder. “A bit slow on the uptake. Yes, Evette, it’s yours.”

Evette could hardly process it. She’d ridden an old Shooting Star up till this point; maybe not the fastest or most comfortable, but loyal enough. This broom in her hands was now possibly the nicest thing she owned. Her mouth flapped open and shut like a fish caught out of water as she struggled to find words.

She was saved from speaking by Angelina grabbing Evette by the shoulders and shaking her excitedly. “A Nimbus Two Thousand and One, Evette! Oh, you _have_ to try out for the team again this year, Wood’s _got_ to let you play at least for one game!”

Evette still struggled to speak. Even after she had bid Angelina and Alicia farewell and stumbled out of Quality Quidditch Supplies, she couldn’t stop staring at her new broomstick.

“You’re welcome,” Atlas supplied.

“Thanks,” she said, but it was so quiet she doubted he had heard it.

It wasn’t until they stopped for a bite to eat at Saw and Savorre’s Sandwich Shop that Evette was brought back to her senses by none other than Percy Weasley and his girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater.

“Hey—hey, aren’t you Fred and George’s brother?” Lara called, maybe a bit rudely.

Percy slowly turned, and Evette nearly choked on her ham and swiss when she saw he’d already pinned his Head Boy badge to his Hogwarts cloak. Penelope giggled into her hand, and Evette noticed that she’d had the decency to hide _her_ Head Girl badge underneath the cloak, pinning it instead to her jumper.

“And you’re those girls who actually managed to put my brothers in the their place a handful of times,” he said. “I must say, I applaud you for that—it is certainly not an easy feat.”

Evette couldn’t quite believe that this was how he was choosing to talk to her. Then George’s letter came back to her, and she found herself struggling to hold in a laugh. She kept her eyes trained on the table, not trusting herself to look at anyone else.

“You’ve just entered your fifth year, haven’t you?” Penelope asked, stepping up beside Percy. Evette nodded. “Do you know who’s been made prefect?”

“Er—me.”

Percy’s eyes positively glowed, but whether from approval or not it was impossible to tell. He swelled up so much that Evette feared he would pop, but Penelope leaned forward and said kindly, “That’s wonderful. Congratulations—Evette, wasn’t it?”

And she shook her hand before escorting Percy from the shop with a gentle and calming hand.

Once they’d finished eating, the four got to their feet to decide what they had left to do.

“Books from Flourish & Blott’s and new school robes from Madam Malkin’s,” said Mr. Wright, consulting their lists. “Those are right near one another, aren’t they?”

Just as they left the patio area, Evette spotted a familiar face. Before consulting her father, Lara, or Atlas, she dashed forward, jumping in front of Lee Jordan with an excited smile and a breathless, “Hey!”

He did a double-take, obviously startled. “Oh—hey, Evette. Good holiday?”

“Can’t complain,” said Evette quickly. “And you?” But she pushed on before he could answer. “You haven’t seen Fred and George, have you?”

He eyed her curiously, half a smile dancing on his lips. “Er—yeah, I have. I just left them, they were up by Flourish & Blott’s, I think.”

“Alright, thank you. See you tomorrow!” And Evette dashed off again, in a considerably better mood, leading the way as her group made their way back up, where the main hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley congregated.

“Good news?” Lara asked, her voice heavy with amusement.

“Just excited to finish shopping,” Evette replied curtly, but she couldn’t have kept the smile off her face if she tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a short chapter, i know, i know, i hit some serious writer's block here so i was glad to just get it out in time!! thank you for your kind comments and support, i read every single one. < 3


	11. Ice Cream and Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evette and Lara have quite a bit of shopping left to do, but maybe they'll find the twins once it's all said and done...and maybe both families will show up and make a right mess of things. Just maybe.

**V**   
_a flirtation over frozen dessert_

❈

Mr. Wright only put up a half-hearted argument when the girls suggested they split up to finish their shopping faster; he was just as excited to get home as the girls were to get back to Hogwarts.

Once they all had agreed to meet outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor to recoup, Atlas escorted the girls off to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions and Mr. Wright headed next door to Flourish & Blott’s to get their new schoolbooks.

It didn’t take long to get their new robes fitted. Evette positioned herself so that she could see the front windows of the shop, keeping an eye out for—well, you know—but she didn’t see a single freckle. Anxiety was building in her chest; why’d he invited them if they weren’t even going to see one another?

Not that she cared. It was precisely the kind of irritating thing they’d find funny. She was mostly frustrated she’d fallen for their prank.

Madam Malkin handed them their new robes and the girls turned to Atlas, waiting for him to lead the way out of the shop. To their surprise, he gestured towards the door.

“You girls go on, I wanted to get myself something. I’ll meet you at Fortescue’s.”

They looked at one another nervously, Mr. Wright’s request that Atlas not leave their side ringing in their ears. Atlas picked up on their thoughts without them making a sound.

“Honestly, you’re fifteen. Nervous to walk across the street on your own? In broad daylight, surrounded by shoppers?”

“Alright, alright,” Evette said snappishly. “Just… don’t take too long. Mum’d be cross.”

“And I’d deal with it. Go on.”

Casting one last glance over her shoulder, Evette followed Lara out of the shop. The bell tinkled gently as they rejoined the bright afternoon.

Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor was, in fact, right across from Madam Malkin’s. Shouldering her new broom and hefting her bags farther up on her other arm, Evette found herself looking forward to the time she could set down all her things in her room at the inn.

“Oh, that better not be who I think it is.”

Lara had said it under her breath, and quickly, too, so Evette almost didn’t catch her words, and it took another several seconds to process them. Then her head shot up, looking through the front windows of the shop, and instantly saw who Lara was referring to.

“Oh, bloody hell…” she mumbled, but it was too late to avoid it. Lara pulled the door open, the bell jingled, and three freckled Weasley faces turned to look at them.

Ginny Weasley was taller than she’d been at the end of last term, but she still barely reached the twins’ sternums. Fred and George were rapidly approaching six feet tall. The differences between them now and them in the photographs from the summer were small, but there; they were even more freckly and tan now; their hair was slightly shorter, as though they’d got it cut very recently; and they were somehow less awkward. They were slowly but surely growing into their gangliness, becoming less lanky and somehow more _cool._ And for whatever reason, that got under Evette’s skin.

Fred and George both beamed when they saw the girls, and before Evette or Lara could speak, they’d rushed forward and helped to take some of the bags from them, since their arms were empty.

“Is that a new broom? George asked, realizing too late that that was the first thing he’d said to her in person all summer. He grimaced at his tactlessness, and Evette rolled her eyes.

“Yes, it is,” she replied, smiling in spite of herself. “And I’d like to hang onto it, if that’s all right.”

George stepped back, nodding vigorously. He handed a bag of frog spawn to Ginny, who looked repulsed but stayed quiet.

“What’re you doing here?” Lara asked, bewildered, as she gratefully passed her new robes to Fred.

“We could ask you the same,” Fred countered.

George made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snicker. “Just buying Ginny an ice cream, getting away from Mum and dear old Percy for a bit. Have you seen them?”

“Just Percy,” Evette replied, surprised how easily the conversation was coming. She’d expected there to be an awkward tension, maybe a slight blush—but no, this was just Fred and George, as Lara had predicted. Indeed, they were wearing the same matching blue jumpers as always, with jeans that showed a bit too much ankle, but they combatted this problem by wearing long, funny socks: George’s purple with orange stars and Fred’s green-and-blue checkerboard.

“Was he horrible?” Fred asked, his eyes glinting.

“Dreadful, actually,” Lara corrected him.

George shook his head mournfully. “I’m so, so sorry.”

All three girls laughed, and Evette noticed the admiring way Ginny was looking at her brothers. Smiling to herself, Evette tapped George on the arm to get his attention and show that it was their turn to order.

As they all got their ice creams, there was a brief, but comfortable, lull in the conversation. Fred steered Ginny outside, his free hand on her shoulder, and let her pick the table for them to sit at on the patio. Lara and Evette sat across from Fred and George, and George pulled up a chair from a neighboring table for Ginny.

Fred ran a hand restlessly through his hair, like he wasn’t quite used to its new length.

“When did you cut your hair?” Evette asked, swiping her tongue across her chocolate-with-sprinkles cone to stop a drip from rolling onto her hand.

“A few days ago, Mum didn’t like how long it was,” said Fred. “I expect she’s worried we’ll end up like Bill.”

“I like Bill’s!” Ginny piped up.

“Yeah, we know you do, Ginny,” Fred said seriously, eyeing his little sister. “He’s got the longest hair after you, though I suppose Mum would just about keel over if the rest of us tried to grow ours out to match.”

“Who’s Bill?” asked Lara curiously.

“Oldest brother,” answered George, tipping back in his chair so it balanced on two legs. “He’s the reason we were in Egypt in the first place. He’s a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts over there.”

“And he’s got long hair?”

George nodded. “Almost to his shoulders. He’s saying he wants it long enough to where he can have it in a ponytail. It’s now a matter of what happens first—the ponytail, or Mum inventing a jinx that she can send in a letter that’ll cut it all off.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed and she beamed as she leaned conspiratorially forward and said in a voice that carried, “ _I_ heard he wants to get his ear pierced by the goblins!”

“Interesting bloke, your brother,” Evette said, laughing in spite of herself.

“You’re telling us,” Fred sighed wistfully. “He’s dead cool, though. Set the bar far too high for the rest of us that came after.”

“I want to hear more about Egypt!” Lara insisted, scooting forward in her chair. “What was it like?”

All three of the Weasleys’s eyes lit up and they began to talk over one another. Evette and Lara’s heads turned from Fred to George to Ginny to George to Fred and back again as they tried to stay caught up on every single detail the siblings could spare. Finally, Fred stopped for a breath, and that was the silent cue for his siblings to also fall quiet, content to reminisce inside their own heads.

Evette said, “Wow,” but Lara’s mouth just hung open. She was still turning between the three of them, seemingly still processing the sudden onslaught of information.

With a loud and rather unappealing slurping noise, Fred was the first to finish his ice cream, smacking his lips and tossing the paper wrapping over his shoulder, where it landed effortlessly in the bin. His brows furrowed and he leaned forward, folding his hands and fixating a stern gaze on Evette. She suddenly felt like she was in an interrogation chamber and looked nervously to Lara.

“Hang on,” Fred said, “how’d you know we’d got haircuts recently?”

Determined not to balk under his intense stare, Evette calmly bit off a piece of her cone. She pointedly did not look at George, though she could feel him and Ginny also staring at her.

“It looks shorter than it did in the photographs George sent me,” she finally said, “that’s all.”

And to her great surprise, Fred half stood up, reaching across the table to cuff her jovially around the shoulder before falling back into his seat and propping his feet up, looking positively giddy as he glanced between his twin and Evette. “I know that, I was only messing with you. I noticed you writing to each other.”

It was this boisterousness, rather than his intense sincerity, that caused a blush to rise in Evette’s face. She hoped with all her might it wasn’t visible, but before anyone may have said something, Ginny said eagerly, “Ooh, yes, George passed on your message! Thank you for asking after me!”

Evette tried to say “not a problem” and “don’t worry about” at the same time but only managed an odd gurgling noise, so she busied herself with finishing her ice cream, hating how hard her heart was beating in her chest. She exchanged a pointed glance with Lara, who blessedly didn’t choose to capitalize on Evette’s floundering.

“She’s got a big heart, this one.” Lara clapped Evette over the shoulder, similarly to how Fred had done, as she said this, and Evette coughed.

George waved his hand airily, dropping so that all four feet of his chair were on the ground again. “Never mind all that—I meant to say thanks, Evie, for keeping me entertained during a _painfully_ boring summer.”

Lara narrowed her eyes. “You’ve just told us how exciting your summer in Egypt was, haven’t you?”

Now it was George’s turn to color a bit, and he leaned back in his chair again, running a hand through his hair and saying stiffly, “Er—yeah, I suppose I have.”

An awkward silence fell. Ginny was looking between the boys and girls, her mind obviously spinning very fast.

“So, er—tell me more about Bill!” Lara said, seizing for a topic. “What was he like at Hogwarts? Did we go to school with him, and I just missed him?”

Fred looked at her reproachfully. “If you’re interested, I’m afraid you’re up against quite some stiff competition. I told you, he’s _cool.”_

Lara shrank back, pouting a bit. “I only meant—”

“He was a prefect _and_ Head Boy,” interrupted George, not-so-gently slugging Fred in the shoulder, “which Mum absolutely _loved._ Percy tried to follow that path, and kind of succeeded, except he was—is—a git about it.”

“Prefects!” Lara said shrilly, more than eager to change the topic once more. “Who do you think’s got the badges in the other Houses?”

Fred arched a curious eyebrow. “Who cares? What I want to know is who we have to ex-communicate from our friendship in _our_ House.” A mischievous grin spread across his face and he leaned on his hand, turning to look at Evette. “Any ideas, Ollie?”

Evette felt her cheeks begin to heat up again, but she playfully shook her head and hummed in denial. Fred narrowed his eyes at her and she stuck his tongue out.

“Hold up, hold up,” said George, waving his hand between them. “Do you girls have an idea who the _boy_ Gryffindor prefect is?” he asked with the sly air of someone holding back a great secret.

“Oh, I hope it’s Moises!” burst out Lara suddenly. “I’d like to see him try and tell the Slytherins that they can’t do something!”

“Forget Slytherins, I’d like to see our prefects tell _us_ we can’t do something,” scoffed Fred. He looked at Ginny and asked patiently, “What do we say about being made prefect, Ginny?”

“Only prats become prefects,” Ginny replied promptly, sitting on her hands and bouncing a bit.

“That’s right,” said Fred proudly.

“It’s _Carter,”_ said George, leaning forward so he was in between Fred and Ginny, looking at the girls with an excited smile. “Carter _Smalls._ We saw him earlier, he was already wearing his badge.” He shook his head, leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes almost mournfully. “A real shame, we expected better of him.”

“I wish you wouldn’t go on so about how awful being made prefect is,” Lara said before Evette could stop her. “I think Evette will be a wonderful prefect!”

The effect of her words was maddening and instantaneous. Fred leaned back, brought his hands up to cover his face, and wailed loudly. George dropped his head on the table, groaning. Ginny’s jaw dropped open.

“I bloody well knew it,” George said, his voice muffled by the table. “A tragedy, that is, a damn tragedy….”

“I really think you’re looking at this the wrong way,” Lara insisted, placing her hands in her lap. “You’ll have a prefect on your side in all your pranks—”

Evette, Fred, and George all laughed loudly at this.

“Just as you were getting cool,” George said reproachfully once they’d calmed down. He shook his head slowly, and to his credit, he genuinely looked sad. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Oh, come on,” Evette sighed, spreading her hands in protest. “I’m not _that_ bad. I’m not even wearing my badge yet!”

“Small blessings, I suppose,” grumbled Fred, scowling and picking at a stain on the surface of the table.

Evette rolled her eyes and folded her arms. She leaned back and crossed her legs, but couldn’t help but jog her foot a bit. She and Lara sat like that, waiting for the boys to stop throwing their little pity party, but it didn’t seem like it would be ending any time soon. Likely used to their antics, Ginny was slumped forward, her cheek propped up on her fist, her lids half-glazed over.

“Are you done?” Lara asked drily after several more minutes.

“Not yet,” Fred mumbled mutinously.

“So what did _you_ girls do this summer?” Ginny asked loudly, turning to look at them.

Just as Evette opened her mouth to answer, though, her blood ran cold and Lara jumped in her seat, turning around, waving excitedly, and calling, “Hello there! Over here!”

Knowing full well who Lara was greeting and praying she was wrong, Evette also turned to see Atlas striding purposefully toward them, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He raised a hand in greeting, but it didn’t quite reach full height as he took in their three red-headed companions.

To her horror, just as Atlas had come level with the patio, Mr. Wright emerged from the crowd outside Flourish & Blotts farther down, carrying two large piles of spell books and looking quite haggard. He easily spotted Atlas’s broad shoulders and made towards him, not yet seeing Evette, Lara and their friends.

“Who’s this, then?” asked Atlas and Fred at the exact same time. Atlas’s eyebrows lifted the tiniest bit and Fred looked at Evette, mouth slightly agape, all traces of misery gone from his face.

“This is my brother,” she said quietly, turning to Atlas and pointing to each of her friends in turn. “This is Fred…George, and Ginny.”

Atlas instantly zeroed in on George, who seemed to shrink a bit in his seat, but before he could speak, Mr. Wright had arrived, panting, at his side. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge the Weasleys, beginning to hand books over the small fence to the girls.

This silence, compared to the one from when the teenagers were getting their ice creams, was thoroughly unpleasant and awkward—not that Mr. Wright seemed to notice. Atlas was still staring hard at George, who seemed to have retreated somewhere inside his mind; his eyes were wide and fixated on the table, his fingers drumming anxiously on his leg.

Mr. Wright passed over the last book to Evette, who handed it to Lara, who added it to her pile before returning her hands to her lap, obviously not loving the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“So, then,” said Mr. Wright, looking up. “I think that’s everything on your lists—oh, hello. Who are you?”

Fred managed half a wave, but Ginny and George could only manage pained grimaces in substitution of smiles.

Evette cleared her throat. “Dad, Atlas—Fred, George, Ginny. Fred, George, Ginny—my dad and my brother.”

Atlas stuck his hand over the fence, leaning farther and farther over it to shake each of their hands in turn. Evette chewed on her lip, watching this all go down, unsure why her heart was racing at fast as it was. After Atlas shook hands, so did Mr. Wright.

“We’ve met, haven’t we?” Mr. Wright asked calmly.

“Yes, sir,” said George.

“You had a friend with you then. I’m going to assume this isn’t that friend?” He pointed at Ginny.

Fred laughed lightly, but George’s chuckle was undermined by the slight greenish undertone to his face. “That was Lee,” explained Fred, craning his neck to look at the passing foot traffic. “Dunno where he got to, honestly, thought we’d be seeing him again.”

“Hey, Evette,” Atlas said loudly, his eyes still on George (who had returned to examining the table most intently), “isn’t this—”

“Oh— _Ginny!_ Ginny, Fred, George!”

As if the situation couldn’t get more painful a rather plump woman with hair as red as the twins’ had entered the patio area and was bustling towards their table. There was no doubt in Evette’s mind—this was Mrs. Weasley.

“No, no, no…” muttered George uselessly, sliding down in his seat so his eyes were level with the table now.

Too late. Mrs. Weasley was now upon them, standing at Ginny’s shoulder, her gaze sliding one-by-one from Lara, to Evette, to Mr. Wright, and to Atlas. Her mouth formed a small, surprised circle, and her eyebrows darted upwards.

“Who’s this, Georgie?” she asked gently.

Evette couldn’t help but snicker into her hand when she heard his _mum_ use the childish nickname. George’s ears were starting to turn red, and he just slightly shook his head in response to his mother’s inquiry.

Fred, ever the savior of tense interactions, half-stood again, pointing at each person. “Mum, this is Lara, this is Evette, this is Evette’s brother, Atlas, and this is Evette’s dad. And this is our mum, everyone. Thank you for joining us, Mum.”

But Mrs. Weasley obviously hadn’t paid much attention to anything past “Evette”. She was still staring at Evette, who suddenly found it difficult to maintain eye contact.

“Evette?” She repeated, glancing back and forth between Evette and George. “Oh, _this_ is who you’ve been writing to all summer! I was wondering why he’d always shut himself up in his room and turn up late to dinner whenever the post arrived!”

Evette flashed hot and George sat up indignantly, his tone sharp when he said, _“Mum!”_

“What?” Mrs. Weasley asked innocently. Ginny and Lara looked at each other, and Ginny giggled.

“Not to worry, Evette was doing the exact same thing,” Mr. Wright said with a smile. “I was starting to worry she was secretly corresponding with that Sirius Black fellow!”

 _“Dad!”_ Evette protested, while the Weasleys all burst out laughing.

Mrs. Weasley held out her hand for Mr. Wright to shake. “Molly Weasley,” she said brightly.

“Mark Wright,” he replied, clapping his free hand on Atlas’s shoulder. “And this is my eldest, Atlas.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Atlas.”

Atlas was eyeing Mrs. Weasley with a nearly impossible to read expression. Evette remembered suddenly what he’d said about Bill Weasley, and how they had been in the same year at school. Unsure where exactly it had come from, she was suddenly flooded with certainty that Atlas had met Mrs. Weasley before.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said smoothly.

“Well, this is delightful, but Percy’s just about finished at the apothecary,” said Mrs. Weasley, ignoring the way her sons pretended to puke at the sound of their older brother’s name. “We’d best be heading back to the Leaky to try and meet up with Harry and Hermione before dinner.”

“Oh, we’re staying at the Leaky Cauldron, too!” said Lara excitedly, speaking up for the first time.

Mrs. Weasley looked delighted at this, glancing between the girls and their guardians. “That’s—that’s splendid! Would you like to join us for dinner? I’m sure we could get a side room from Tom, he wouldn’t mind pulling in a few more chairs—”

“We’re touched at the suggestion, Molly—can I call you Molly?—truly,” said Mr. Wright, cutting her off, “but this is my last night with the girls, and we already have dinner plans.”

“We do?” asked Lara, leaning over to whisper in Evette’s ear.

“Apparently,” Evette replied out of the corner of her mouth.

Soon enough, Mrs. Weasley had gotten the twins and Ginny to their feet. George offered a tired smile, letting Fred take Ginny’s hand and lead her after their mother. “Well…guess that’s us, then. See you tomorrow, Evette, Lara.”

“See you, Georgie,” Evette replied smoothly.

George’s face colored a bit and he nodded curtly before hurrying after his family.


	12. The Prefect Carriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of September has arrived at last. Family and friends gather on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, but Evette has some business to take care of before enjoying the train ride with her friends.

**VI**  
_goodbye and big heads_

❈

Mr. Wright took the girls and Atlas for burgers at a place he’d apparently frequented with his Muggle friends when they were finishing up their GCEs. The food was good, but Atlas kept trying to bring up the topic of the Weasleys, which Evette was very determined to avoid.

When they were done, Mr. Wright walked them back to the Leaky Cauldron but didn’t go in. The sun was dropping low over the skyline. He gave them each a firm hug, wished them a good term, and told Atlas he’d seen him back at home the next day.

As Evette watched her father walk back towards the car park where Mrs. Ollivander would likely be waiting for him, her heart felt heavy.

“I like your dad,” Lara sighed contentedly, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Yeah,” said Evette softly as Mr. Wright rounded a corner and was gone from view. “Me too.”

“Alright, time for bed,” Atlas said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “Mum’ll kill me if you’re late for the train tomorrow, so you’re getting those full eight hours.”

The girls reluctantly allowed him to steer them into the pub, which was much fuller now that people had returned from a day’s shopping and stopped in for a drink. Evette wrested her shoulder out of Atlas’s grip and planted herself just out of reach.

“One butterbeer, brother?” she asked, jutting out her bottom lip. “It’s our last night together and you have years to make up for, after all.”

Atlas muttered something about “that’s what the broom was for,” but he caved under persistence from both of the girls.

One butterbeer turned into two butterbeers, and three and four, and he reached for a fifth well after sunset.

Atlas was deep in discussion with Tom the landlord and Evette and Lara sat a ways away, Lara’s copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five_ open in front of them. Giggling, they were trying their hand at various charms and jinxes with no effect.

 _“Confundo!”_ Lara said pompously, flapping her hands as though she were making a pitiful attempt at taking flight. Evette slumped forward, a giggling mess, and nearly knocked over her most recent butterbeer.

The taproom of the Leaky Cauldron was more or less empty at this point. There were a few late-night stragglers, but the main occupants—families of students who’d be heading to King’s Cross in the morning—had done the smart thing and called it an early night. When Evette saw Lara poorly stifle a yawn, she decided she’d best follow their example.

Getting to her feet, she called, “Atlas, we’re going to bed!”

Atlas jumped at her voice; she had a strong idea he’d forgotten he was supposed to be watching them. He rapidly pulled out his watch—a coming of age gift from Mrs. Ollivander—and winced at the time. Without a word, he rapidly gestured for them to get on with it.

Exchanging amused glances, Evette and Lara turned and began to walk towards the stairwell. Lara went up first, taking them two at a time, but Evette faltered when she heard an odd chittering noise from underneath the wooden steps.

Feeling uncharacteristically nosy, she ducked down and found she was not at all surprised to see Fred and George crouching there in the darkness.

When they saw her, they instantly froze, but their smiles remained prominent.

“What have you got there?” she asked, noticing they had their wands out, and Fred was holding something small and golden.

“Percy’s new badge,” Fred said cautiously.

She arched an eyebrow. “And why have you got that?”

“We’re changing it to say ‘Bighead Boy,’” George said in that same wary tone, as though fearful Evette would go running up the stairs screaming for Percy.

Evette felt half of her mouth pull upwards, and she realized that she was _smiling mischievously._ “Careful, now,” she said teasingly, “or I’ll write you up for that.”

George straightened up a bit and lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

She leaned farther forward into the space. “Mm-hmm. I’m a prefect now, if you hadn’t noticed. I could get you in serious trouble.”

George inched forward the tiniest bit, his eyes bright and stubborn. “I’d like to see you try, Ollie.”

Fred glanced back and forth between the two of them, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes narrowed. As Evette and George held out their silent staring contest for a few more moments, he shifted in his seat and coughed into his hand. Evette backed out of the alcove, straightening up to her full height again.

“Good luck with that, then,” she said, turning with a swish of her cloak and following Lara up the stairs. As she reached the top, Harry came towards her, walking quickly, and she hastily jumped to the side of the thin corridor, letting him squeeze past. He pulled back the corners of his mouth in an awkward smile and nodded.

She returned the nod and quickly found her bedroom, where Lara was already in her pajamas. Lara looked up in surprise. “What kept you?”

“Nothing important,” shrugged Evette, turning her back to Lara as she pulled out her own pajamas. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide, but she had the silliest notion that her cheeks were probably a little pinker than usual.

❧

The next morning, Atlas and the girls took a Muggle cab to King’s Cross station. It was a tight fit with Evette and Lara’s large trunks, but Atlas (who didn’t understand Muggle currency very well) generously tipped the driver, so he didn’t complain.

Evette hadn’t seen Harry, Hermione, or a single Weasley on their early-morning scramble to gather everything and get down to the cab, so she assumed they’d left before Atlas had succeeded in shouting Evette and Lara down the stairs. This didn’t bother her; she was more than certain she’d see them on the train, at the very least.

Once again, Atlas placed a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders and steered them forcefully through the bustling train station. The large platform numbers rolled past: five…six…seven…eight…. Upon arriving at the large barrier between platforms nine and ten, Atlas stopped the girls.

“Alright, you two girls go first, and I’ll bring the trolley through,” he said, glancing around at the passing Muggles to ensure none were paying too close of attention.

The girls nodded, glanced at one another, and stepped quickly and confidently towards the barrier, matching step for step. Evette braced for the impact that never came, felt a pleasant chill ripple down her spine, and when she blinked again, the Muggles and surrounding trains had vanished; they were replaced with eccentric families, twittering owls, cats weaving around ankles, and a bright scarlet steam engine belching nearly opaque white smoke onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, so that the people standing more than five feet away from Evette looked like gently swaying ghosts.

Lara took Evette’s hand and squeezed it. Evette knew what she was feeling; she, too, was thrilled to be returning to school. She turned and glanced up at the great clock hung on the barrier, telling them that the train would be leaving in a little over ten minutes.

There was a clatter behind them, and they saw Atlas emerge from the barrier and push through the smoke towards them, looking younger and happier than he had all summer. He looked wistfully at the Hogwarts Express as he pushed the trolley level to them.

Evette grabbed her new broomstick and trunk and Lara did the same. Atlas walked with them towards the train and helped them load their belongings onto a luggage rack. He stood back and offered a hand to help them jump back onto the platform.

“Well,” Atlas said bracingly, jutting his hands into his pockets.

They never let him finish his (probably pompous) thought; as one, they stepped forward and threw their arms around him. He stiffened momentarily before relaxing and accepting the embrace.

“Promise you’ll write while you can?” Evette asked once she’d released him, fixing him with a sharp glare. “You owe me, after all!”

Atlas sighed, but he was smiling. There was a twinkle in his eye that Evette had forgotten about; it had been, after all, what had drawn people to his natural charm in the first place. He even seemed to be standing a little taller. Over his shoulder, Evette saw Parvati and Padma Patil eyeing Atlas curiously as they walked past with their parents.

“Yeah, alright, then,” he agreed. “At the very least I’ll let you know if I’m going to disappear again. Deal?”

Evette wrinkled her nose. “Fine. Deal.”

Atlas beamed before turning to Lara and dipping into a low bow, much to her amusement. “It was truly a pleasure, Miss Crumb.”

She returned his gesture with a deep curtsy and light giggle. “Truly, the pleasure was all mine, Atlas Ollivander-Wright.”

The girls took a step back so they were closer to the train, and Atlas backed away closer to the barrier. With that movement, an invisible wall seemed to erect itself between the two parties, and Evette felt a horrible painful lump rise in her throat.

“Have a good term, Evie,” Atlas said softly. “Stay out of trouble. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He faltered as though he was fighting an internal battle. She thought for a moment he’d break down that wall and embrace her, touch her, tousle her hair and kiss her forehead, but then he turned his head sharply to the right, nodded crisply once, turned on his heel, and walked back in the direction of the barrier. Within moments, he had vanished into the smoke.

A whistle blew somewhere. Five minutes left.

The bubble that had been building in Evette’s chest for the past several weeks popped, and she suddenly felt very tired.

“You okay?” Lara asked gently, stepping closer and putting a hand between Evette’s shoulder blades, rubbing soothingly.

Evette nodded, hating the way she sniffled. “Yeah. Yeah, I will be. Not to worry. Come on, let’s—”

But she was cut off by a familiar voice calling through the fog, “Is that Evette and Lara? Hey—you two!”

Two shapeless blobs began to grow closer until Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet emerged from the smoke, both with big smiles and arms wide. The four girls hugged in greeting, then Alicia closed her hand around Angelina’s wrist. “Come on, the boys are back there—”

“The boys?” Lara asked, following Angelina, but Evette had a feeling she knew who Alicia was talking about.

Sure enough, Fred and George’s familiar freckled faces were soon revealed, standing beside Lee Jordan. A large huddle of figures stood a few yards away through the fog—the other Weasleys, Evette presumed, though she couldn’t make out faces. All three boys waved enthusiastically and Fred said, “Long time no see, ladies.”

“Long time no see yourself,” Evette retorted.

“So the lot of us, is it?” asked Lee expectantly. “Should we go find a compartment before it leaves without us?”

But at that moment a woman’s voice, instantly recognizable, raised about the hubbub and called, “I’ve made you all sandwiches…. Fred? Where’s Fred?”

Fred clapped his twin on the shoulder and ducked farther into the crowd, reappearing quickly with a wrapped sandwich in both hands, one of which he handed off to George. Mrs. Weasley, however, wasn’t pleased with this as a goodbye, and quickly emerged and planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. They seemed inclined to duck away, but thought better of it.

“Keep out of trouble this year, okay?” she asked, a stern edge to her voice. She pinched Fred’s cheek, maybe not as gently as she had for her other children. She smiled kindly at Lee and the girls before disappearing back towards her family.

“As we were saying,” George said, obviously trying to pretend his friends hadn’t just watched his mother kiss him on the face, “we’re all sharing a compartment, aren’t we?”

Lara nodded casually, but Evette shifted on her feet. “Er—I’ve got to go to the—”

“The prefect’s carriage, right,” George said quickly, rolling his eyes with a teasing smile.

Fred pretended to gasp dramatically and clutch his heart. “Evette, you’re a _prefect?_ Why didn’t you say something? We’d have bought you a cake to celebrate!”

“Shut up,” she muttered, feeling a bit warm.

“Don’t tease her, we didn’t know!” Angelina said quickly, swatting the sleeve of Fred’s jumper. She turned to Evette. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

In reply, Evette simply pointed at the twins. Alicia made a noise of understanding. A whistle blared over the platform once more, and the last-ditch crowd of students began flooding onboard.

“Alright, come find us afterwards if you can!” said Angelina hastily, following the others towards the closest carriage. Evette waved farewell and turned, jogging towards the front of the train, where she knew the prefects carriage to be situated from the times she’d enviously watched older students enter it.

As she neared the open doorway, with a guard half-leaning out of it, checking to ensure everyone had got in, she felt a hand tap her shoulder and turned.

“Carter!”

Carter Smalls stood before her in a light blue jumper and dark jeans, his prefect badge already pinned to his chest. With a flash of embarrassment, Evette realized she’d left hers in her trunk with her robes, not wanting to offer up any more teasing fodder for the twins.

“Thank goodness, thought that was you,” he said with a relieved smile. “You’re the other prefect, aren’t you? I overheard Lee mentioning something about it earlier.”

“Yes, I am. Let me say, I’m relieved it was you and not—I don’t know—any of the others, really.”

“I feel the same, believe me. I thought Lee was taking the piss, honestly.”

Another whistle blast rent the air. The guard beckoned the two Gryffindors impatiently forward, and one after the other they grabbed the rail and jumped up into the carriage. The guard slammed the door shut after them just as the train began to trundle forward.

Evette and Carter shuffled past the luggage racks, Evette leading the way to the door labeled _Prefect’s Carriage._ She turned over her shoulder to send Carter a nervous and excited smile before sliding the door open.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear—Evette?”

She had come face to face with Cedric Diggory.

❧

“Er…."

“Are those the new Gryffindors? Excuse me, excuse me—yes, welcome, come on in, take a seat….”

Percy Weasley had pushed Cedric out of the way, ignoring the way he and Evette had been goggling at one another, and dragged Evette rather ungently forward, across the threshold and into the prefect’s carriage. It was quite full, and Evette was relieved to see her own overwhelmed and bewildered feelings were reflected on the other fifth years’ faces.

Carter stepped in after her, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Alright, alright, find a seat—any seat will do, we won’t be here long!” called Penelope Clearwater over the crowd, waving her hands. The crowd jostled to sit down, and much to Evette’s displeasure, she found herself getting sandwiched between Carter and Cedric.

“Alright—er—welcome!” said Penelope once everyone was more or less settled. She and Percy were standing at the front of the carriage, both already in their Hogwarts robes, their Head Boy and Head Girl badges on full display. With a jolt, Evette realized that Percy either hadn’t noticed or been informed that his badge still read _Bighead Boy._

“Hello to you new fifth years,” said Percy pompously, and Evette bit down on her knuckles, hard, to prevent herself from giggling. “Sixth and seventh year prefects already know a great deal of what I am about to say, but it does well to be reminded. Being a prefect is nothing to be taken lightly. You were hand-selected to represent the very best of Hogwarts….”

But Evette quickly found herself tuning out Percy’s long-winded speech, looking around to take in the other prefects from the other Houses.

The only seventh year prefect she recognized was Dina Derriweather, Dawn’s older sister. She was sitting, half-slumped, her legs crossed, jogging her foot and seemingly very eager to leave. A seventh-year Ravenclaw boy leaned over and whispered something into her ear and she looked at him with a glowing smile.

For the sixth years, she recognized the Gryffindors and the boy from Slytherin. Terence Higgs had been the Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team till Draco Malfoy had bought his way onto the team and replaced him last year. Evette didn’t have any reason to dislike Terence; he’d never done anything outright malicious in her line of sight, and when he was on the team, he had played fairly, as opposed to whatever it was the Slytherin team was up to nowadays.

And as luck would have it—or just proximity—she knew all of the fifth year prefects. That is to say, she knew their names, at least.

As Percy continued to drawl on, Evette took note of each of her prefect companions. Anaya Gray was sitting next to Adrian Pucey for Slytherin. Evette was quite excited to see Anaya, and spent a few moments trying to catch her eye, but Anaya seemed genuinely interested in what Percy had to say, so she gave up on the endeavor for the moment.

As for Adrian, Evette didn’t know much about him. He seemed to be a Slytherin of the same cloth as Terence Higgs, however, in that he tended to play a fair, clean game of Quidditch. Unlike Terence, however, Adrian had not been removed from the team by Draco; he still had his Chaser position, as far as Evette knew. He, too, was watching Percy interestedly.

From Ravenclaw, she saw Eileen Combee and Patrick Brown sitting together, both big-eyed and obviously absorbing every single word Percy said. Evette didn’t know much about them as a pair. She knew Patrick had been on the Quidditch team a few years back, but had dropped off of it for some reason.

That just left Hufflepuff. Cedric was still sat beside her, wedged so tightly on the seat that their legs were touching. He had the decency to seem uncomfortable with this development. Across from them, Evette gave a start as she realized the other Hufflepuff prefect was none other than Briony Lark: bushy-haired, fair-skinned, green-eyed, and very pretty.

The image of Briony passionately snogging one of the Weasley twins sprang unbidden to her mind and Evette couldn’t stifle the snort she let out. She never _had_ figured out which twin it had been….

“Alright, Evette?” asked Percy, and too late, Evette realized that her snort had attracted some attention. She straightened up, removing her knuckles from between her teeth and glancing around awkwardly.

 _Of course_ now _Anaya is waving…._

“Er…sorry, Percy, didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said lamely. “Had to sneeze.”

“Bless you,” he said stiffly before addressing the crowd at large again. “Alright, we’re going to go around one by one, give us your name, your House, your year, and one fun fact about you….”

Evette sank down in her seat a bit, her cheeks red. She could feel some eyes still on her. She glanced up at Carter, who shook his head in amusement. Then, to her surprise, Cedric nudged her and murmured, “Gesundheit.”

“Oh—thanks….”

Her face burning hotter than ever, Evette deeply wished for this silly little initiation to be done with. She had just wanted to know if there were monthly prefect meetings….

After their introductions, Percy began another long-winded speech about their duties and roles and where to find their corridor patrol schedules. Evette tried to pay attention, but the twins had not been kidding; Percy was a truly dull person, and dull people should never think they are more than absolutely ordinary, because when they do…well, the result was stood in front of her.

Patrick Brown’s head kept dropping and even Briony Lark’s eyes had glazed over. Penelope, seeming to sense that the attention of the new prefects was dropping, stepped forward when Percy paused to take a breath and put her hand on his chest to stop him. She addressed the students with a winning smile: “I think that’ll do for now. You can always find Percy or myself if you have any more questions, as well as the older prefects in your Houses. Go on, go find your friends, and just remember to patrol the corridors every hour or so.”

It took a moment for them all to realize they were dismissed. Dina Derriweather and that Ravenclaw were first out the door, chatting excitedly.

Evette got to her feet and stretched, not realizing how sore her rear had gotten from slouching on that bench. As she lifted her arms over her head, someone tackled her with a hug and she nearly fell over.

“I didn’t know you were prefect too, you should have told me!” said Anaya eagerly, releasing Evette and slugging her on the shoulder softly.

“When could I have? I haven’t seen you all summer!” Evette protested, but she was smiling. “You look wonderful, by the way. Good holiday?”

“Yeah, it was alright,” Anaya answered with a shrug. Adrian Pucey was lingering by her shoulder, looking around at the older students who were seemingly much more eager to leave than the new ones. Anaya turned to Cedric, who was also stretching beside Evette, and asked in a forced-casual tone, “How’s Roxanna, Ced?”

Cedric smiled a very confused smile. “She’s fine. Haven’t seen much of her, to be honest. I was going to go find her and Landon now if you wanted to tag along?”

“Oh—er—no, that’s quite alright, Adrian I were just going to—Adrian, have you met Evette?” Anaya rambled, turning pink.

Adrian shook Evette’s hand. “Congratulations.”

“You too,” Evette replied, slightly bemused by his manners.

“Well, we’d best get out of Percy and Penelope’s hair,” Anaya said, running her fingers through her own. “Come on, Adrian. See you around, Evie—Cedric—Carter.”

The three she’d spoken to replied with “see you”s and “bye”s and watched her lead Adrian out of the carriage and back down the train.

Evette turned to see if Carter was prepared to leave, and felt her stomach drop when she saw him talking earnestly to Briony, who was twirling hair around her finger. She turned back, realizing it was pretty much just her and Cedric left.

“Good holiday?” he asked casually, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t have his prefect badge on yet, either, which Evette was relieved to see.

“Yeah, it was nice, actually,” Evette replied with a sigh. “I had Lara over for most of it, so….”

“Oh, yeah? How is she?”

Conversation with Cedric came surprisingly easy. Soon enough, she, Carter, Briony, and Cedric were all walking back down the train, Evette keeping an eye out for her friends.

It was a relief that the awkward air over her and Cedric had finally lifted. It certainly hadn’t been his fault she didn’t talk to him after their kiss in the library. She’d been rather distracted by walking in on Briony, and after that, the Petrifications had become more frequent, and then it had seemed they’d all be going home…either way, it was nice to talk easily with him again. She’d missed it.

Finally, Briony and Cedric waved goodbye and got into a compartment with their friends (Roxanna waved in greeting to Evette), leaving just Carter and Evette.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Carter asked with a lopsided smile.

Evette shot him a look. “Are you joking? I thought about telling Percy what was on his badge, but after that…I think he did deserve it.”

Carter laughed. “How did that happen, do you think?”

“Oh, I have my ideas,” Evette murmured, but at that moment a very vibrant compartment caught her eye. Upon seeing her, Angelina, Alicia, and Lara all cheered loudly, obviously in very high spirits.

“Well, this is my stop,” Evette told Carter with a grin. “Glad I have someone to suffer through Percy’s bigheadedness with.” She stuck out her hand. He shook it with a dry chuckle.

“You too, Evette. See you around, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” she agreed, watching him continue to patrol before sliding open the compartment door and stepping inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovely people!! happy december! this chapter's a bit longer than usual (we hit 50k words!?!? omg), so i hope you'll forgive it going up a bit late. i hope the winter is treating you all well so far, and i'll see you next wednesday with a rather spooky chapter! stay safe x


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